Recrudesce
by Elfpen
Summary: When the King of Camelot and his Court Sorcerer are driven fifteen years into their own past by enemies come beyond the grave, even Emrys isn't sure what to do. The duo must enlist the help of their past selves to return home alive. Time travel. Gen fic.
1. From Beyond the Grave

A/N: Alright, readers. I have a confession to make.

No matter how persnickety I am when it comes to canon, no matter how much I try to stick true to the character's personalities and the actual parameters of the show, when it comes to Merlin fanfiction, I have a guilty pleasure.

_Time travel._

I don't know. Something about the prospect of the characters meeting their older/younger selves just enthralls me. It takes all the character development that occurs throughout the show and throws it into 100 percent contrast. Plus, something about the interaction between older/younger selves is just kind of quirky and fun.

I've read a good handful of time travel stories in the Merlin category before, and I'll be honest: I think it's hard to get a good time travel plotline going while keeping everyone in character. Still, I've read a few that give me hope, and on that note, I'm going to give it my best shot to write an interesting, engaging, realistic-to-canon piece where Merlin and Arthur meet themselves through time travel, in more way that one.

So, because I have hit a huge writer's block in _A Second Chance_ (despite having the entire plot outlined and ready to go), here we go. Although I hadn't originally planned to post this, please enjoy _Recrudesce_

NOTE: For reference, this story takes place several years after the events of _A Second Chance_ ( I know, I know, I'm horrible for posting it before its predecessor is finished…)

* * *

><p>It shouldn't have been possible. There was no reasonable, acceptable, feasible explanation for the fact that somehow, someway, Morgana was <em>alive<em>.

Merlin's chest heaved as he pressed himself against a wall. He could still here the rubble settling in the decimated throne room where Morgana had attacked. Upon her arrival, Gwen had fled under Gwaine's protection. Arthur had tried to reason with Morgana, but the witch had attacked before he could finish. Now, only half-conscious with an arm ripped out of socket, Arthur sat against the wall where Merlin had dragged him.

"Wheresshe?" He slurred, gritting his teeth against the pain. Merlin crouched down beside him and let his hand hover over the king's shoulder.

"_G__esleán þæs __cláwung." _His eyes glowed and the pain melted from Arthur's shoulder. "It may not hurt, but it's still damaged. Try not to move it," Merlin told him.

Arthur wondered briefly if Merlin realized how Gaius-like he could sound in these situations. "Thank you, Merlin," He had more control of his voice now that the pain was gone.

Merlin only grunted and craned his neck around the corner, seeking any sign of Morgana. "I'm not sure," He replied to Arthur's initial question. "I thought she'd be looking for us, but…" He sighed. "It'll be best if we move. Come on." He helped the King up by his good arm, and Arthur hung onto his friend as they walked. Somewhere between the throne room and the floor, he'd developed a limp.

"Where's Guinevere?"

"With Gwaine. I sent them to the North Keep."

"Will they be safe? Gwen and the baby?"

"Of course. I put up protective wards around that tower ages ago."

"Oh, you're not a _complete_ idiot, then. That's nice to know."

"I wouldn't say that to the man who's saving your royal ass _again."_

"You're not saving my ass. I can take care of it myself, thanks."

"Whatever you say, Sire."

They rounded a corner and ducked into a small alcove. Merlin let Arthur down then went to peek around to the next hallway.

"What about Raina?" Arthur asked, trying not to fidget. His arm didn't hurt nearly as much as it did before Merlin bewitched it, but it still tingled uncomfortably. Merlin glanced at him, hurt.

"You don't think I already thought of that? I sent Leon after her and told him to take her after Gwaine to the North Keep."

"Oh. Of course." Arthur blinked, realizing it had been a silly question.

"Prat." Merlin turned his head back around to spy again.

Officially, Merlin was Court Sorcerer and Royal Advisor. Unofficially, he was the protector and guardian of not only the king and queen, but also their daughter and unborn child. Thinking over it now, Arthur realized that it was a bit patronizing of him to doubt Merlin's protective abilities. Arthur and his family would always be protected. Then, a thought occurred to him, and Arthur frowned.

"And what of Balin?" He asked. This time, Merlin didn't react. An uneasy feeling wormed its way into Arthur's gut. "Merlin?" he repeated, more anxiously.

"…Balin knows how to look after himself." Merlin said curtly. He didn't say anything else, but Arthur could see his adam's apple bobble, and felt a wave of guilt. Merlin shouldn't be here with him, he should be out finding Balin. Still, the King didn't say anything – what could he say?

"Come on, we need to get you to the Keep, too. You can barely stand, let alone swing a sword."

Arthur knew that when Merlin was in battle mode, there was no arguing with him. He let the warlock haul him up and begin a quick hobble toward their destination.

Halfway there, Morgana intercepted them.

Not missing a beat, Merlin swerved behind a pillar as she raised her hands against them. The fireball singed the tips of his hair, and he could hear it explode against rock somewhere behind them as he dropped Arthur against the column.

"Stay here, and for God's sake, don't be a prat," which was Merlin's affectionate way of saying _let me handle this_. Although Arthur had a growing list of reasons why he _should_ be a prat, He didn't have much of a choice, immobile as he was. He twisted his head around to try and see whatever action was about to unfold. Injured or not, if worst came to worst, he _would_ defend Merlin.

"Emrys." Morgana spat the words like poison. "It's been a while. You'll forgive me if I say I haven't missed you in the slightest."

"How are you _here?_" Merlin asked, his hands poised to rise in defense at any moment.

"Wouldn't you like to know." She continued toward them.

"I was there, I saw you, I was there when-"

"When what?" Her voice cracked like a whip. "When you _murdered _me?"

Merlin actually looked taken aback. "So you did _die,_ then."

"I _was _there."

Merlin's eyebrows were like stone as he racked his brain for an answer, any answer. "But… _How?" _

Neither he nor Arthur were expecting Morgana to laugh. But she did, a light and coy sound that rang with a sing-songy undertone. _I know something you don't know,_ her eyes teased.

"All those years, you _were _ right about him, Arthur," She smirked, her eyes never leaving Merlin's face. "He _is_ an idiot."

Merlin shrugged the insult aside, but his mind raged, trying decipher her meaning. She saw it behind his eyes and her smile grew.

"You trust him too much, you know. Powerful Emrys. Magical Emrys. Undefeated, _wise_ Emrys." She only shook her head and looked Merlin up and down. "Oh, how the mighty will fall. I will see to that much."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur was struggling to stand. For once, Merlin didn't bother to tell him off.

Morgana looked positively giddy. "Oh, look at you two. You have no idea." She looked back at Merlin. "You think you know the ways of the Old Religion. You think you know everything there is to know about magic." Her face transformed into a wild, vicious look. "Well you're wrong. I know things, I can _do_ things that you can't _possibly_ comprehend."

As Arthur hobbled over, Merlin could only stare.

"In a sense, I already have." She giggled as though she'd made a joke, but sobered again quickly in another terrifying shift of mood. "And I will."

Then, she raised her hands and began the incantation. At first, Merlin had raised his hands to make a shield, but then he really listened to what she was saying. He didn't understand the spell, but one phrase caught his ear:

_"__Oferfere."_

Morgana was saying a teleportation spell.

Merlin lunged forward in a burst of determination. All these years haunted by her death, now tormented by her undead soul, Merlin was _not _going to let her escape. Not now. Not ever again. Not on his _life_.

"Merlin!" Arthur struggled across the floor. Merlin hardly heard him. If he could only _touch her…_

Arthur grabbed his foot, as though to stop him, and Merlin fell forward. Just as Morgana began to fade into her spell, Merlin reached out a hand and grabbed onto the hem of her dress.

Suddenly, everything was twisting and churning and screaming and whirling. In the back of his mind, Merlin thought he could hear Arthur screaming from the pain in his shoulder. In a oscillating voice that he could only half understand, Merlin could hear Morgana utter the beginnings of a deadly enchantment. _"NO!" _Amid the confusion, Merlin couldn't physically locate Arthur, so he threw out his magic itself around the king like a protective blanket. A second later, pain laced through him and flung him out of the enchantment. Arthur fell on top of him and rolled off to one side, unconscious. Merlin followed soon after. All was black.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so there are some things you probably won't understand just yet. That's okay. Unfortunately, later chapters will probably have some spoilers for _A Second Chance_. …I really guess I should work on that some before I continue this. But anyway. I hope y'all enjoyed it. Sorry this first chapter was so short.


	2. Discovery

A/N: Sorry for not updating this in so long. As I've said, this takes place after _A Second Chance_, so I didn't want to get too far into it because its predecessor was still a WIP. However, now that ASC is nearly wrapped up (only three more chapters to go!) I figured I can update this story and get away with it. So! Enjoy the first real chapter, although it's a bit short.

* * *

><p>Leon's feet hurt. He knew it was a petty complaint, one that in no way befitted his station as a knight, but after three hours of patrol, all he wanted was a nice chair, no shoes, and a bucket of cool water to soothe his poor toes.<p>

One of the guards that walked with him sighed. "I don't see anything of anything," the man complained, "D'you really think it's worth it?"

_No._ But he couldn't answer like that. He was a knight; a man of honor. "The king wouldn't have sent us out if it wasn't," he said, though he didn't believe it. "The thief is here, just give it time." _Three more hours, probably…_

Truth be told, Leon didn't think that the 'thief' should have even been their concern. Reported to have stolen a roast chicken and an unusually large helping of apple tarts from the palace kitchens, the perpetrator wasn't exactly a threat to anyone. Well, save for the odd butchered poultry, at least, but Leon thought that the chicken couldn't have cared, what with being dead. Nevertheless, it'd been a slow, boring summer that had melted into an even boring-er autumn, and Leon knew it would have been futile to refuse any job, even a job so pointless as hunting down hungry, kleptomaniacal hooligans.

"Just keep your eyes peeled," he told his men.

"For what, a hungry dog?" one of them muttered under his breath. Leon pretended not to notice.

There was a crash nearby, around a bend in the road. At the same instant, two teens ran from behind an old shed into a nearby house, looking suspicious. Leon turned to follow them.

"Richard, Halsholm, investigate that noise. Bayard, you're with me." Eager to do anything besides nothing, the men followed orders promptly. Leon edged toward the house and knocked on the door, and despite the fact that he'd seen the people enter, no one answered. "Hello?" He called, "I know someone's in there, I just need to ask a few questions. Open up." He tried several more times, but when no one answered, he opened the door himself. He found the two teens, a boy and a girl, looking rather preoccupied with snogging each other, until they saw him and began looking incredibly guilty. Embarrassing, but hardly criminal. Leon sighed. Another false lead.

"Sir Leon, you may want to come and see this," He heard one of his men from outside.

"Just a moment," He called back. "Sorry," He muttered unfeelingly towards the interrupted couple, and left. "What is it?"

The guard before him wore a startled expression. "Well, Sir, it's… Well, you need to see it."

"See what?"

"The…bodies," another said. Leon was immediately alert.

"The _what?"_

"Bodies, sir."

"Show me."

Richard led him around a bend in the road to a –thankfully- deserted corner where he could make out the two bodies to which Richard had referred.

"Are they dead?" He asked.

"No sir. It's just that… Well, they're…"

"What? They're what?"

Richard was clearly shaken and confused. "Well, just _look at them_, sir." He gestured. As they drew nearer, Leon got a better look, and he frowned when something seemed undeniably familiar about the unconscious bodies. He drew closer to the nearest one, who was lying face-first on the ground. He turned it over to get a better look at the face.

He paled.

"Send for the king," he choked out around his shock, and none of the men questioned his order.

* * *

><p>"Sire, I hardly think it necessary to go to such precautions. The sickness hasn't been seen in years, and the summer was mild enough that I doubt it will spring up again," Gaius told his king. Uther seemed unconvinced.<p>

"You remember what happened when it did appear, hundreds of people died."

"And I have kept the antidote well-stocked ever since then. I assure you, Sire, Camelot is prepared for whatever this winter may bring."

The king nodded somewhat half-heartedly but his face brightened when he looked to the door. "Ah, Morgana," He smiled at her, "How nice of you to join us for dinner.

"Uther," She nodded politely, "Gaius." She took her seat and thanked the maid who served her drink.

"You haven't seen Arthur yet this evening, have you? He was meant to be here nearly an hour ago." Uther looked around as though expecting his son to appear at any moment.

"I haven't seen him since this morning," she told him, popping a grape into her mouth. She looked at the fruit. "Last of the year, I suppose. A pity."

"Indeed. And more the pity if Arthur should miss them all for not knowing how to arrive somewhere in a timely manner." Uther shook his head. "Fair punishment, though. How has your evening been, my dear?"

"Well, I-" Morgana began, but just then, the huge doors to the hall were flung open and a panting Sir Leon unceremoniously interrupted the royal's dinner.

"Sire," He bowed slightly,

"Sir Leon," Uther addressed, "I assume it is urgent?"

"Yes, sire."

"So urgent as to warrant a disruption to our dinner?" He smirked. "Surely a petty thief does not pose such a threat."

"No sir," Leon agreed without argument, "It's not that. It's… My men, while on patrol, they found… _bodies_, sir."

Uther frowned, and Gaius sat up straighter attention. "Corpses?" The king asked. Leon shook his head quickly.

"No sir, not dead, unconscious."

"Unconscious? How?" It was Gaius who asked.

Leon turned to the physician. "I don't know. We heard a crash before they were found, but did not see anything."

"Unfortunate," Morgana said, "but not exactly emergency. Unconscious peasants happens every once in a while, does it not, by drink or by brawls?" Uther nodded at her and turned back to Leon for an answer.

"Yes, my lady, but they aren't peasants, that's just it."

"Who are they?" Uther asked. Leon seemed at a loss.

"Well, Sire, they're-"

"I _told_ you, stack them from largest to smallest. If you'd done _that, _I wouldn't be late," An annoyed voice echoed down the hall.

"How about you learn to carry it all yourself? I can't do much else but stack them from hardest to carry to easiest to carry," a lighter voice called back.

"Which for you, of course, means that it all ended up on the _floor_."

"It's not my fault! Why do you have so much armor?"

"It's just one suit!"

"It felt more like three!"

A scoff. "You're such a girl, Merlin."

"Well at least I'm not a pr-"

"Sorry I'm late, father," Arthur emerged suddenly into the dining hall, his voice effectively drowning out his servant's insults. Uther motioned his son into the room, and Arthur took his seat quietly, aware but unconcerned with the fact that his manservant was glaring at the back of his head.

"You were saying, Sir Leon?" Uther asked.

Leon was pale. He stared at Arthur oddly, and cast a glance back at Richard, who had accompanied him. The other man shook his head and shrugged.

"Sir Leon?" The king prodded, obviously growing frustrated.

"Well, Sire, it's just… They, that is, the bodies," he glanced at Arthur and Merlin with apprehension and confusion on his face, "they appeared to be the bodies of Prince Arthur and his servant, Merlin." Suddenly, everyone went quiet. Banter forgotten, Arthur and Merlin shared a look that registered mutual confusion. Leon swallowed and tacked on a respectful, "Sire," a bit too late.

Uther took a moment to answer. He glanced at his son.

"Well obviously they're not. As you can see, Arthur and his servant are here. You were mistaken, clearly."

"No, Sire, you don't understand," and Uther's glare flickered over to him at that, "they looked _just like_ them. Only… only… not. Sire. But I was sure it _was_ them, Sire."

More quiet. Uther peered at Leon for a moment, before looking to his left, to Gaius. The physician nodded and stood.

"Show me."

* * *

><p>"I told Bayard and Halsholm to stand guard while we alerted the king, to make sure no one else saw and went into a panic. They're just over there," Leon directed Gaius, who was followed closely by an overcurious Arthur and Merlin. He passed quickly to where the guards stood over two prone forms. They'd covered the bodies with their cloaks. Gaius went over to them, knelt, and removed the cloak from one of the bodies. It would take him hours to recover from the shock of what he saw.<p>

There, unconscious, pale-faced and dirty, was Merlin. He was sure it was Merlin, he would recognize that face anywhere. From the ears to the hair to every facial feature, Gaius was positive that it was Merlin. But it was different. This man had a light beard, and crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. He was angular, mature, and filled-out. Frankly, it was Merlin. But _older_. It was incredibly disconcerting, and Gaius found his hands were shaking when he raised the cloak off the second body.

It was a similar case as with the first. It looked just like Prince Arthur, but _older_. Gaius looked up to compare the two. Arthur was clean-shaven, but this… _other_ Arthur had a neatly trimmed mustache and beard, and a few scars and wrinkles where the real Arthur had none. For a moment, Gaius could only stare.

"Here's your kit, Gaius, if you'll be needing…" Merlin froze where he stood, and Gaius looked up at him. His ward's face was white and terrified as he stared over Gaius shoulder, the medic kit outstretched and forgotten in his hand. Gaius followed Merlin's gaze to the body that bore his likeness, then darted back to Merlin. He took the kit quickly.

"Go," he shooed Merlin away.

"What _is_ that?" Merlin breathed, unable to tear his eyes away.

"I don't know. Now go, get. You and Arthur need to leave. Now." He shoved the boy away. "Leon, you and your men, go fetch to stretchers. We need to get these… men to my quarters immediately." The knight and guards left.

Merlin was still staring when Arthur came up, his tone rather incredulous about the whole thing.

"Well, assuming that they aren't _actually _us, of course, we can probably-" and then Arthur's eyes widened and he froze. "Gaius," he demanded, suddenly serious, "Gaius, that's-"

"Yes I know," the physician covered the faces and stood up to physically push the prince and his servant away.

"You said that weren't dead," Arthur said, still looking at the bodies.

"They aren't, but you and Merlin need to leave. It's too… strange."

"What is it?"

"I don' t know, Sire."

Arthur gulped. "Is it… Is it magic?" He asked.

Gaius cast a look at Merlin, who still looked terrified, and the warlock's eyes were darkened in a way that told Gaius he was thinking the same thing.

"I don't know sire," he told the prince, "but you and Merlin need to leave."

"My father needs to hear about this."

"And he will, as soon as I see to… the unconscious men. Now go."

For once, Arthur's voice lost its condescending edge when he turned and said, "Come on, Merlin, let's go."

Merlin didn't move. He looked at the bodies, then at Gaius, then back down.

"They're not dead, Merlin," Gaius said, trying to reassure his ward.

Merlin didn't reply. No, they definitely weren't dead. But for whatever reason, the prospect of them being alive seemed just as foreboding. He turned at followed Arthur silently.

Gaius remained where he was and waited for the men with stretchers to arrive. He couldn't help it when he snuck a peak at the two unconscious men again. Merlin, but not. Arthur. But different. But _how?_ Even as he escorted the guards and the unconscious patients back to his quarters, Gaius could scarcely begin to think of a solution.

What on _earth_ was going on?


	3. Theories

**A/N: **Wow! I actually wasn't expecting such enthusiastic feedback on this story, so thanks to everyone who's been bothered to read it, and triple thank-yous to everyone who bothered even more to review it.

Real fast, I just wanted to thank **sfsf** for two things: firstly, (because I don't remember mentioning this before) for second-hand inspiration from her story _A Journey Destined, A Journey Forgotten_ (which all of you should go read, right now, along with its sequel _A Tale of Legendary Warlocks)_ which is the first and perhaps only well-done, thought-out time travel story that I've found on the Merlin archives. So, kudos to her for that, and my preemptive apologies for any unintentional idea-copying. I'm doing my best to develop my own original ideas, but inevitably, there will be some similar themes.

Secondly, I'd like to give her thanks for alerting me to something in the A/N for the first chapter that may have made some miscommunication on my part. (which should be edited) I don't mind being corrected or criticized when I need to be! So please, don't feel like you have to go easy on me or be nice! I can take it, and probably want to hear it.

But I digress.

On with the new chapter!

* * *

><p>Merlin had always known that Uther hated magic. Deep down, there would always be a part of Merlin that hated him for it. But sometimes, most of the time, Merlin forgot that Uther was truly afraid of magic. The warlock felt almost guilty as he watched childlike fear play on Uther's face as he stood over the still body of an Arthur who wasn't his.<p>

They'd brought the two lookalikes back to Gaius' chambers and laid them out on two cots, side by side. Gaius had spent some time cleaning the dirt and grime off of them, and after his efforts, their similarity to the crown prince and his manservant grew even more uncanny. They were still unconscious, and the Merlinlike figure in particular remained deathly pale.

"What kind of enchantment is it, Gaius?" Uther asked. He was unable to take his eyes off the body of the man who looked like his son, but was not willing to draw nearer. The physician looked worried as he could only shake his head.

"I'm not sure, sire. I'm not even sure it _is_ an enchantment."

"Of course it is – it has to be!" Uther exclaimed, looking to his old advisor. Gaius sighed.

"Magic may be involved, Sire, but I'm not sure _how_. For everything I can make of these two men, they _are_ Arthur and Merlin. Down to the very last scar and birthmark. Arthur," He addressed the Arthur who was awake and standing up, looking quite disturbed, "Show me your arm. Your left arm." The prince complied, and Gaius quickly pointed to a few-inch long scar on his inner elbow. "I treated this when Arthur was young – a swordfighting incident," Gaius reminded those in the room. Then, he went over to the body of the Other Arthur and picked up the arm he hadn't bound in a sling. In the same place as on Arthur's arm, the Other Arthur bore an scar identical in every way, only more faded. "It is the same on _this_ Arthur."

If possible, Arthur looked even more disturbed. He glanced at his father, who remained unconvinced. "It's magic. Someone is trying to impersonate my son, to take his power." From the sidelines, Merlin quietly noted that Uther had hardly glanced at _his_ look alike. He wasn't surprised, but almost wanted to feel hurt. He frowned as he realized it was a stupid reaction.

In response to the king's conclusion, Gaius shook his head once more. "I've never seen an impersonation spell like this, sire. There is no way that anyone could have done this. Impersonation implies replication – the identical duplicate of a subject. But these… these men are different. They are exactly like Arthur and Merlin, in every way, except that they are older. Over ten years older, I would say."

"Couldn't it be an aging spell of some sort?" All eyes turned to Arthur as he spoke for the first time, "I mean, on top of this… impersonation spell that you mentioned. Couldn't they age themselves after?"

"I don't think so, Arthur," Gaius said, glancing back at the unconscious figures. "It's too complicated. Any aging spell any sorcerer would use would only age that which is already there on the body – but this… There are new scars on both of these men, scars that you and Merlin do not have. There are places were bones have broken in the past and healed over – bones that neither of you have broken before. I would know – I would have treated them all."

"But if they're not duplicates of some sort," Merlin finally asked, "what _are_ they?"

The hesitant, alarmed look on Gaius' face said it all.

"You can't be implying…," Uther spoke slowly, "That you actually think that this _is Arthur?"_

Gaius didn't respond.

Arthur scoffed. "That's impossible!" He gestured widely. "_I'm_ here, not lying out cold on some table – how on _earth_ could that poor sod be _me?"_

"I don't know, sire," Gaius said in all seriousness, "But I remain certain that it is _not_ a duplicate of you. He looks far too different from you to _be_ you, but far too similar to you to _not_ be you. This man," Gaius pointed for emphasis, "for all intents and purposes, must be identified as Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. By the same token, I must identify this man," He turned and pointed to the Other Merlin, "as my ward and your manservant, Merlin." He looked directly at the royals. "I can't explain it, your majesty, but I am almost certain that it is _not_ sorcery."

There was silence after that, strung with tension and unspeakable questions. Then, Merlin said,

"Time."

They all looked at him. Arthur spoke first. "What?" he asked.

"Time," Merlin looked up. "It's the one different between you and him," he pointed to the Other Arthur. "Age, time. If he's not someone else, but he's not _you_, maybe he's you, but from the future."

"_What?"_ Arthur peered at his servant, and scoffed. "How on _earth _did you come up with _that_?" But while Arthur found reasons to ridicule, Merlin and Gaius shared a look of epiphany.

"He could be right, sire," Gaius said, to Arthur and Uther's astonishment. "I've never _seen_ it, or even heard about it in practice, but in the old days, there was a faction of magicians… They were senile, crazy in more ways than one, and most people didn't heed what they said, but they had theories about time. They meddled with magic and time together – that was what drove them mad, some said. They believed that magic could be used to _skip _time, be used as a vessel between the present, the past, and the future." He glanced over at his newest patients. "Not many people thought their theories were worth considering. But if there was any truth to what they thought… well, we may be looking at it right now."

No one dared to ask any questions or make any comments. Even thinking of excuses made it seem too ridiculous, too unbelievable and unreal. And yet, the two unconscious (futuristic?) figures didn't move from where they lay, their chests still moving in frail up-down breaths.

"It is sorcery," Uther concluded.

"Perhaps, sire," Gaius told him, "But not of any kind we've seen before. If it is magic concerning time, these men should not pose any direct threat. If a sorcerer has brought them here by meddling with time, these men don't merely look like Arthur and Merlin, they _are_ Arthur and Merlin."

Uther stared for a long moment before he said, "Let no one see them. Let no one know of this." He turned to leave, but Gaius stopped him when he said,

"That will be rather hard, sire, once they wake up."

The look on Uther's face read of pure terror. "Wake up?" he asked.

"They are not dead, Sire, and unless you wish to kill a man who may, in fact, be your son, they will remain that way until we discover the reason behind their coming here, which will likely require their own efforts as well as ours."

"Then work quickly, and undo this sorcerer's evil." Uther fled the healer's chambers in a rush, but Arthur lingered for a moment longer. He looked at the two unconscious men – _himself_ – and then at Gaius. He left in silence, unusual for him.

Merlin hadn't realized he was staring until Gaius's voice snapped him from a trance. "I don't think you should get too close, Merlin," He said. Merlin shook himself and realized he was only a foot or so away from the face of his Other Self. He stepped back as if he'd been shocked.

"Sorry. It's just so…"

"I know." Gaius sighed and came over. "But I fear that, if he _is _you, from the future, coming into contact with him may not be a good idea. Those magicians I spoke about? They went mad for good reasons. Meddling with time creates all sorts of messes, messes that mortal minds cannot endure in peace."

Merlin and his mentor stood slightly away from the figure in silence. After a moment of thought, Merlin asked, "Do you think he'll know more about it? When he wakes up?"

"There's no telling," Gaius said. "He may. He may have been the one to have brought himself and Arthur here in the first place." He turned to his ward. "We both know you possess great power, Merlin, even if it has not matured yet. Ten years would have given you plenty of time to master that power."

They stared some more together before Merlin said, in an attempt at optimism: "Well at least I know I'll get to _live _another ten years. Rather shocking, all things considered." But Gaius was still somber.

"Yes, unless of course you ruin it all by coming back here and cutting yourself short."

Merlin frowned at him in surprise. "You think that can happen?"

"I don't know anything, Merlin. I never listened to those crazy theories about time. I never thought it possible." He shook his head regretfully. "Now, I wish I had." He turned away and fiddled with some medicinal bottles on his bench. "Regardless, they are still my patients, and they are not well. I need to examine them more to determine their ails _aside _from the appearance of being ten years out of place." He shooed Merlin as he moved toward the Other Merlin.

"Go get your book," he said quietly, "And see if you can't find anything that might pertain to this. I don't want you around this… _Other_ you if I can help it."

"You'll tell me if you need help?" Merlin asked as he turned. Gaius nodded, and Merlin went to his room and shut the door.

As he set the spellbook on his lap, he let out a huge pent-up breath. The _future._ The future _him._ It twisted his gut oddly, and he wasn't sure what to feel. Foreboding? Excitement? Fear? He tried to ignore it and cracked open his most precious possession, but found himself wondering despite himself: Was there anything that magic _couldn't_ do?

* * *

><p>Arthur almost wished he'd never woken up. Feeling came slowly, and only in growing waves of unpleasantness. A dull sense of nausea made him want to curl in on himself, but as soon as he tried, he realized that his arm was immobilized by pain and the rest of his muscles were as taught as strung wires. Merlin's enchantment must have worn out hours ago, he felt, and he opened his mouth with every intent to begin cursing until his favorite (or least-favorite, as the case may be) sorcerer decided to fix his mangled body. Unfortunately, like most the rest of his body, his mouth decided it didn't want to work properly. It all came out as a groan instead.<p>

He heard a sudden scuffle to one side of him and something wooden clattered to the ground. He groaned again at the painful noise and tried to open his eyes. They were caked shut by a sleep that must have been longer than it felt to him, and when he did manage to open his eyes, they were unfocused and squinty. He turned weakly toward the sound he'd heard, and made out a familiar face.

"Merlin? Where are we?" He asked, shifting in his cot and trying to blink away the sleep. The warlock's figure slowly filled out in his line of sight as he spoke. He brought up his good arm and rubbed at his eyes. "What the hell happened back there? What did you _do_?" He looked back at Merlin, and suddenly noticed two things: One, he looked _strange_, although Arthur's sleepy mind couldn't quite figure out why, and two, he looked _terrified._ The king frowned. "Merlin? You alright?"

Merlin said nothing. He hardly even moved. Then, in a startled burst of energy, dropped the bundle of herbs he'd been clutching the whole time and jogged toward the back of the room. "Gaius! Gaius, quick! He's waking up!" It didn't seem completely unreasonable, Arthur realized dully, as he was probably injured and in a bad way. But Merlin's tone struck him. He sounded scared.

Then, as sleep continued to fade, Arthur looked across the room. Where Merlin had been standing before, Arthur could see across to another cot with another occupant, this one unconscious. He recognized it. Arthur could hear Merlin talking to Gaius in urgent tones, but then, Merlin was lying just there beside him, unconscious. The waking process now stunted by confusion, Arthur blinked dumbly.

_Well,_ he supposed, _this probably wasn't supposed to happen._ Though to be fair, he wasn't entirely sure what 'this' was. Merlin walked back into the room with a worried-looking Gaius at his elbow, and Arthur's mind decided that it was easier to wipe itself of thought that try to reconcile the situation. He glanced back and forth between the Scared Merlin and the Sleeping Merlin, and Arthur might have slurred out something along the lines of, "There are two of you, why are there bloody two of you?" before he closed his eyes, but he later, he wouldn't be able to remember.

He knew he shouldn't have bothered to wake up.


	4. Back in Time

**A/N:** Once again, I'm blown away by your enthusiasm for this story. Thank you guys for all of the wonderful reviews! I hope I can meet your expectations for this story. I'm still working out the details of how it'll go… As a good time-travelling friend of mine might say, "Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey."

* * *

><p>"He knew who I was. He called me by name, and got me all mixed up with him, there," Merlin gestured to his unconscious lookalike as he explained the recent incident to Arthur and Uther. "He sounded just like you, Arthur."<p>

The king and prince shared a look. Arthur shrugged. "But… couldn't that… be faked? By magic?"

"A voice could, perhaps," Gaius told them, "but even so, the man's confusion was real. He really _did_ recognize Merlin, and identified him as you would have, Arthur, and really _was _genuinely confused when he saw the Other Merlin. I stand by my original conclusion, sire. These two are yourself and Merlin from the future. And by the looks of it, they weren't expecting to be here."

Silence.

"When will know for sure?" Uther asked, trying to stay calm.

"When we talk with them."

"How long will it take for them to wake up?"

Gaius sighed. "It's hard to say, sire. Arthur, as Merlin's already told you, woke up just earlier today, which is a sign he will likely wake up again, for longer. Merlin, however…" Gaius cast a look over at the pale-faced figure, "appears to be worse off for whatever happened to have sent them here. I'm still assessing any injuries or illnesses he may have sustained, but I don't think he'll be up anytime soon. Merlin looked at his feet and tried to act like he wasn't concerned about that.

Uther looked even more nervous, and wrung his hands. He didn't say anything before he left. Arthur followed shortly.

Gaius went quietly back to his work, and Merlin was left standing in between the two cots. He cast a glance at either of them, and wondered when they'd next wake up. He tried to pretend that the prospect didn't scare him.

* * *

><p>Because Gaius was adamant that Merlin not come into contact with his potentially future self and Gaius was too busy to tend to his newest patients all day, the physician enlisted the help of Guinevere to help Merlin care for the two.<p>

"It's so weird," she said as she helped Merlin re-bandage some of the cuts and scrapes the two had sustained.

"You're telling me. I don't think I could ever get used to it, looking over and seeing myself."

Gwen nodded, and glanced over at the sleeping Arthur, whom Merlin was bent over. Part of her wanted nothing to do with the lookalikes, but another part of her, a larger part of her, was undeniably curious. She stared for longer than she ought at Arthur's matured face and clipped mustache before shaking herself and turning back to the unconscious Merlin.

"I hope they wake up soon. So we can figure all this out," she said as she cleaned Merlin's left forearm, which had scrapes all along its length.

"I hope we _can_ figure it out, even once they're awake," Merlin said. She nodded her head.

It was so strange, seeing what Merlin might look like in ten or so years. He hardly looked like the same person, Gwen thought, casting a quick glance at Merlin across the room. The Merlin she knew was, well, _Merlin_. He was tall and gangly, awkward and sweet with a heart bigger than Camelot itself. He had comical ears and a smile that lit up his whole face, and long hands that could be gentler than even hers could. She looked back down at the Other Merlin whom she cared for, and could only think how eerily similar but how completely different he was.

This Merlin didn't _look_ like Merlin. Not completely. He was more filled-out, for one. His clothes didn't appear to be loose or dingy, as Merlin's tended to, and after years as Morgana's maid, Gwen did not fail to notice the high quality of the fabrics he wore. His ears' size was half hidden behind hair that was thicker and longer than Merlin's, with a speckling of grey throughout. There were slight wrinkles around his mouth, and crinkles at his eyes – developed, Gwen had no doubt, by his squinted, infections smile. But perhaps the most striking change was his beard. Gwen had never seen Merlin with a beard, but the unconscious newcomer had a scruffy, slightly messy layer of facial hair. It accentuated his mouth and cheekbones, and in the back of her mind, Guinevere had to admit that it made him look handsome. Powerful. Confident, even in sleep. This Merlin didn't look like the Merlin that Guinevere knew; he looked like the man that Merlin could become.

"I know I'm not him, not really, but… d'you think you could stop staring? It's… strange." Merlin looked up only for a moment.

Gwen jumped in her seat as she realized she had, in fact, spent the last several minutes not cleaning wounds like she should have been, but staring intently at Merlin's unconscious face. She blushed and sat up. "Sorry," she said awkwardly, and went back to work. She lifted Merlin's arm and resumed cleaning and applying medication to the red, scabbing sections of skin. She was holding his hand to work on his wrist when she noticed something. Her eyes went wide, and she couldn't help but to gasp.

"What's wrong?" Merlin asked. Gwen tried to recover.

"Oh, nothing," She said too quickly, "Just slipped is all, nearly knocked this… Gaius' medicine bottle off the table." She motioned to the bottle of the medication she'd been using. It wasn't near enough for her to be knocking it over, but Merlin seemed to buy the excuse. He grunted and went back to work. Gwen looked back at the Other Merlin in alarm. Her heart working more quickly than normal, she finished up on his arm and laid it back down across his stomach. Carefully, she made sure his right hand covered his left, so the Real Merlin wouldn't see what she'd noticed: a solid gold wedding band around his third left finger.

She glanced furtively back at Merlin, who was completely oblivious, his eyebrows bent together as he concentrated on cleaning Arthur's shoulder, which had sustained a nasty, inflamed cut.

Merlin. Married. _Merlin_. She squinted at him. It was a strange thought. She peeked back at the ring she spied. If this was the future Merlin, that meant that one day, Merlin would be _married_. She supposed later that she really shouldn't be too surprised, but then… It was _Merlin._ Sure, she'd nursed a bit of a crush on him for the first few months of their friendship, but she was quick to recognize that for what it'd really been: friendship. She'd joined Arthur in teasing Merlin before about getting a girl, but secretly, she'd always viewed her friend as an overall platonic character, who really hadn't the slightest interest in romanticism.

Apparently, she was wrong. And, despite her confusion and slight disturbance over the whole thing, Gwen would spend the rest of the day wondering if she'd already met the woman who would marry her best friend in the future.

A thought struck her.

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, she rose and went to clean the blood off the cloth she'd been using. To do so, she had to go around Merlin and the Other Arthur. She glanced quickly and sharply at Arthur's left hand. She only just managed to fight off another gasp of surprise when she saw that Arthur sported a wedding band, too.

Her eyes were a million miles away as she scrubbed the cloth clean in a bucket of water. So Arthur would marry, then. She didn't know what to feel. The ring itself had been lovely – whereas Merlin's was rather simple (albeit still _gold_, not pewter or bronze as some peasant rings) Arthur's was large and rather fancy, for a man's ring. It was suited for nobility, of course. Nobility that his future wife would have. Gwen tried not to let it sting when she thought, _nobility that I don't have_. She wondered if she'd already met Arthur's future wife, too. She determined that, when she did, she'd have to do her best not to hate her. She'd always known that it would happen. She tried not to let the tears rise. She known it would happen, but she didn't know it would hurt this much.

But she was being silly. It was all years away. And they didn't even know for certain how many. Here she was, crying over something she'd seen on a man that may or may not have been from decades in the future. She shook herself and set the cloth aside.

"I'll be going, then. Morgana is probably wondering where I am by now," Gwen said to Merlin. He nodded and thanked her for her help. She left, thoughts of wedding rings and other women and her two best friends filling her thoughts.

She wondered if _she_ would end up married, too.

* * *

><p>The next day, when Arthur awoke again, Merlin and Gaius were at least somewhat prepared for it. It was midday and they were both working when they heard a groan emit from Arthur's cot. They shot each other sharp looks, stopped what they were doing, and went over to the man's bedside.<p>

"Ohh…" Arthur grimaced as he squinted open his eyes. He saw Merlin again. "How long've I been out?" When Merlin didn't answer but only stared, Arthur grunted again and attempted to sit up. For an injured man, he did fairly well. "Nevermind. Ugh…" He put a hand to his head, which throbbed. "You wouldn't _believe_ the dream I had last night, Merlin," He rubbed at his eyes. "I must've gotten hit on the head pretty hard… I dreamt that there were _two_ of you. And one of you looked like a cornered deer when you saw me, just because I woke up. You didn't give me one of your healing potions again, did you? You know how those things always give me the oddest-" and he stopped talking when he finally bothered to open his eyes again and look up. It was Gaius and Merlin who stood before him, but immediately, he knew that something was off.

"Gaius?"

"S-sire," Gaius answered, somewhat nervously.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, but before the frightened boy could think of answering, Arthur spotted the other cot, which Gaius and his ward had been trying to hide behind themselves. Arthur's eyes went wide and he felt his chest drop. "Oh, god…" He was white. "Oh god, it wasn't a dream, was it? It…" His eyes darted back up to Merlin, and his face transformed into an expression of anger. "Who are you?" The sudden bite in his words made both Merlin and Gaius step back.

"I'm Mer-"

"No you're not," Arthur said, suddenly rising from his cot with surprising strength for a man who'd been unconscious for days. Gaius seemed alarmed. "_That's_ Merlin," Arthur pointed at the unconscious man. "Who are you? A sorcerer?" He tilted his head and regarded the boy with an exasperated look. "Don't tell me you're one of the Watchers gone and messed up some forger spell."

"Wh-Watchers?" Merlin asked, confused.

"Who _are you?"_ Arthur asked, pointing a finger in Merlin's face. The anger in his voice made Merlin genuinely scared. Finally, Gaius intervened.

"Sire, you need to calm down, this is much, _much_ more complicated that you may think." Arthur glared at Gaius and squinted, as if he thought Gaius might be someone else, as well. Eventually, however, after several glances at Merlin's unconscious form, Arthur stepped back and looked to Gaius again.

"Explain it, then."

Gaius looked at his ward, then back at Arthur. "Well, sire… We were hoping _you_ could explain it to _us_."

Arthur was nonplussed. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean to ask, Sire, is… Well, who are _you?"_

"I beg your pardon?"

"Who are you?"

Arthur scoffed. "Who am – what kind of – Gaius! You've known me all my life!"

"Please answer the question, sire."

Figuring it was some sort of test, Arthur straightened up and tried not to look too hurt. "Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot."

Gaius glanced at Merlin. "King…" Arthur heard the False Merlin mutter confusedly.

"And… And what year is it, Arthur?" Gaius asked nervously.

Arthur crossed his arms, frustrated. "The year five hundred and thirty-nine, in the common era. Why are you asking me this? What is going on?"

The False Merlin was pale, and Gaius didn't look too much better. The physician swallowed and turned back to Arthur.

"Well, because, Sire… It is currently the year five hundred and twenty-four."

Arthur stared, not comprehending.

"You've gone into the past, Arthur," Gaius explained.

There was a tense silence as Arthur's brain processed what had just been said, what it all implied.

"The past."

"Yes, Sire."

Arthur looked around himself, and suddenly it fell on him like a ton of bricks. He could feel his stomach drop out.

Gaius' chambers, rearranged in a way he hadn't seen in years.

Gaius, with fewer wrinkles that he remembered.

Merlin, who was young and scared and didn't remember that Arthur was a king.

Two Merlins.

Morgana.

The spell.

Back in time.

_The past._

All at once, Arthur's face was very, very pale, and he was falling down. He threw out an arm, and caught the edge of his cot so that he could ease himself down into a sitting position. "Five twenty-four…" He murmured in shock. "That's… not possible…" even as he said it, his eyes drifted over to the unconscious Merlin. "Back in time…" His breathing was beginning to quicken.

"Arthur, you need to stay calm," Gaius said warningly.

"You really are Gaius?" Arthur asked, not listening. The physician nodded. "And you… You're Merlin?" He pointed. Merlin nodded nervously. Arthur glanced again at the Older Merlin. "But… That's… five twenty-four… that was fifteen _years _ago," He choked out, looking at the Young Merlin again. "You are _fifteen years ago._ How could we _possibly-_"

There was a knock on the door. Gaius moved for the door, but Uther and Prince Arthur walked into the room before Gaius could stop them. Immediately, they saw the Other Arthur awake and they froze. King Arthur was staring at Uther in pure shock.

After a tense silence, Uther stepped forward. "Who are you?" He asked, and the voice clipped through Arthur's hearing with a familiarity that he hadn't thought he'd ever hear again. He didn't respond, and continued to stare in something between horror and grief. "_Who are you, _you who impersonate my son?" Uther shouted again. Arthur only stared, and then, as before, his breaths began coming quicker and quicker. He began to sway.

"Arthur, Arthur, you need to calm down," Gaius moved toward King Arthur. Beside Uther, the Young Arthur seemed alarmed.

"Arthur? He's not Arthur – he can't be! _I'm _Arthur, how can…" The Older Arthur saw his younger self and inexplicably began sweating all over. He felt sick, and his hearing was fading, replaced by a dull ring and the sound of his own hyperventilation. Gaius reacted with a physician's speed and urgency.

"He's going into shock. Your majesty, Arthur, you need to leave. Merlin, help me." Gaius went to push the man's head down over his own lap, but Arthur had other ideas, and fought him.

Merlin tried to help, but paused to say, rather forcefully, "_Go!_" To the royals who still lingered. As they left, Arthur managed to break free from the physician's grip. He quickly found an empty bucket from Gaius' bench and was sick. After days spent unconscious, his stomach didn't have anything to reject, and it came up as pure bile in hacking, gagging coughs.

_Back in time_. Fifteen years. His father. _Him._ Merlin was terrified of him. Five twenty-four. The Past. _Back in time._ He choked on his nausea again.

Trying to talk as little as possible, so as not to further remind the displaced Arthur to his situation, Gaius handed the man a dose of medication. Arthur took it with shaking hands and downed it without question. His nausea soon subsided, but he had to fight to keep his breathing at a normal rate. Sweat poured off him.

"That was me?" he asked in a shaking voice, "I've gone back in time?"

"Yes, Sire." Gaius' voice was small.

"No…" they could hear the man whisper to himself as he ran hands over his face, "no… this has to be a dream…" Gaius and Merlin looked on without comment. "But… That was my _father_," He said in a wobbling voice, "that… That was _me_."

"Yes, Sire."

"…Back in time…" Arthur sat there for a long time, and when Gaius and Merlin tentatively moved to clean him up and wipe the sweat off his brow, he let them without complaint. Eventually, after they'd gotten him to eat a small amount of bread and water, they'd led him back over to sit on his cot again. He stared unblinkingly across at the face of the unconscious Older Merlin. As Merlin passed them by, he could hear Arthur talking to the unconscious man in a lost tone of voice.

"Merlin, what the hell have you _done_?"

Merlin wanted to ask himself the same question.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I actually don't know if I should have done the whole scene with the wedding rings, but it fits into my headcanon, and I really wanted it to be in there, just for the heck of it. It's sorely off-topic with the rest of this chapter, so I apologize for that, but I'll play with it later.

I hope I handled Arthur's reaction well! I know that, if I ever met myself or people I knew from a time that wasn't _exactly_ the golden years, I'd react pretty strongly, as well. Read and Review, please!


	5. First Steps

After his initial panic attack, Arthur calmed down enough to wrap his mind around the situation – which was clearly magic – to the point where he was able to hold a conversation with Gaius and Merlin. It was a short conversation, clipped and awkward, but it broke the tension.

"I see he's taking his time waking up," Arthur had said to Gaius whilst staring at Merlin's sleeping skull. Gaius glanced at him.

"Yes. I'm not quite sure why." He sounded worried.

"Hmm." Arthur had an idea, but he wasn't sure if he should share it just then. He stowed it away for later. Instead, he turned towards Young Merlin (which took far more courage than it should have, he felt) and asked, "Don't suppose you might know? Being… Well, _him_ and all."

Merlin was good at a lot of things, but he was rubbish at hiding embarrassment. "Ehrm," he fumbled, blushing, "Well, I, er- no."

Arthur turned away before the boy could see his face, which he was sure was twisted in a strange grimace. He wasn't sure if it was his own presence, what with being fifteen years in the wrong time, or if he had simply forgotten how awkward and _young_ Merlin had once been. He was painfully aware of how much growing _he_ had gone through over the past decade, but he'd either never noticed or had forgotten how much Merlin had changed, as well. The king couldn't help it when he glanced at the boy sidelong. He was thin and lanky as ever, but he didn't seem quite comfortable in his skin yet. He was jittery, too. When Arthur looked at this younger Merlin, he knew that he should recognize him, know him, remember him. But he didn't. He'd forgotten what Merlin had been like back then. That Merlin was a vague memory, as if from a dream, and seeing him again in flesh and blood was a surreal experience for Arthur. Eventually, he shook himself and had to look back at his unconscious friend. _This_ was Merlin. _This man,_ knew. And he had a boatload of questions for him whenever he decided to wake from his beauty sleep.

Before long, Uther made it clear that he wanted to talk with Arthur – the older Arthur, that is. Gaius protested against such a meeting, but the king insisted. Begrudgingly, Gaius informed the Older Arthur, and after several hours cooped up alone preparing himself mentally, Arthur agreed to appear before the king. Gaius remained uneasy as he escorted the displaced king to the Great Hall.

They received some stares as they walked. They'd kept it all very hush since the occurrence, but inevitably, word of the lookalikes had spread through the ranks of the nights and guards – even some servants stared as they passed by. Arthur tried not to look at them. He couldn't occupy himself with small discomforts like stares when his family, a part of his family that should have been dead, were waiting for him just a few footsteps away.

"Are you ready, Sire?" Gaius asked.

Arthur clenched his jaw and sucked in a breath. He ran a hand over his beard, and braced himself.

"Yes." He said quietly.

The doors opened, and Arthur had to steel himself.

He'd been aware that Uther would be there. He wasn't _entirely_ surprised when he saw his younger self there as well, but when Arthur stepped into the hall and caught sight of Morgana, he wasn't prepared for the sudden ache and the lump in his throat.

She looked just like he remembered, like he'd always wanted to remember. An intense face set on pale skin with waves of stark black hair as a backdrop. She was poised in her ornate dress like she'd been born in it, and looked every inch like a princess. Clean. Confident. Dignified. Her hair wasn't matted, her dress untorn. Her eyes didn't hold the poisonous, crazed look anymore, and despite himself, Arthur felt tears. He couldn't let them fall, and coughed around his throat's soreness as he was shown to a seat in front of his strange examiners.

The only sound in the room was the sound of their bootheels on stone as Gaius took a seat next to Uther and the Older Arthur sat down across from them all. A water clock dripped in its stand in the corner.

He wondered what they might think of him, and felt oddly sheepish, like an animal put on display. It was silent and awkward for a while the group studied him, and Arthur looked everywhere but at them. He couldn't help but to cough once in a while and shuffle his injured arm in its sling, and the noises accentuated the silence. He knew he shouldn't speak first, but he was tempted. Thankfully, Uther spoke before he could give in.

"Who are you?"

It was a simple question. "Arthur Pendragon," he said, leaving off his title intentionally. He saw them all stiffen, and quickly deduced that it was his voice; of course, he _sounded_ just like the Arthur they knew. He may have looked different, but voices weren't prone to change much at his age. "I assure you," he said to Uther, "I _am_ your son. And so is he," he nodded at his younger self. "Somehow. Gaius tells me that I've come back in time, though how, I'm not so sure."

"It's true, Sire," Gaius put in, "the subject of time travel has been studied little, but I see it as the only explanation."

Prince Arthur was pale as he stared at King Arthur, and the older man tried not to stare back. He fidgeted. Damnit, he _knew_ that he'd been taught that it was rude to stare – hadn't he listened? He sniffed and tried to ignore himself.

"Well, why don't you try and explain it to us? What happened before you appeared here?" Uther asked.

Arthur sighed. He hadn't exactly been expecting an interrogation, but all things considered, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. "I was in Camelot, last I recall," he said, starting off with a shrug. "We were under attack. I'd been injured. Merlin was trying to help me reach the Keep."

"A retreat? In a siege?" Uther seemed alarmed. King Arthur set his lips in a line and wished he didn't have to explain it all to anyone, least of all, to his father, whom he knew would react strongly.

"The attack was a surprise. We were unprepared, and the… attacker," he couldn't help it when his eyes wandered over to Morgana, "was powerful. A sorcerer," He added, and regretted it. Uther sat up straighter and opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur cut him off. "This sorcerer took us by surprise. We were forced to take cover any way we could."

"How many years… How far into the future are you from?" Uther asked with some hesitation. Arthur glanced at him. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to tell him. He glanced at Gaius, this question in his eyes. Though he didn't look happy about it, Gaius nodded.

"Fifteen," he said at length, and let it settle. The triad of royals glanced at each other, and each absorbed the revelation silently.

"And magic still plagues Camelot then?" Uther asked. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and had to bend his head.

"…yes, if you say so." He sounded disappointed, but not for the reason that Uther summarized too quickly.

"I've always told my son that magic is a curse to the land, one that must be quashed."

And inexplicably, Arthur had to fight back a chuckle. "Yes, you always did always tell me that." Even he wasn't expecting the strange tone of fondness that escaped into his words.

_Did_. It was a past-tense reference that wouldn't register with the royals until later. For the time being, none of the younger Pendragons thought twice about it.

"What happened?" It was Morgana who asked the question. Arthur glanced at her and wanted to snap at her, blame her. From what Merlin had told him years ago, Arthur knew that Morgana was well on her way to becoming Camelot's enemy by now. And yet, even as he looked at her and _knew_ what she was, he found he could only hurt for her. She didn't know how it would end. She didn't know how Arthur would hurt for her, how she was not alone. How could she? He sighed and closed his eyes, fighting to remember as his memories drew nearer to the present. Or past, as it were.

"We were going down the west corridor to the keep," He said, "Merlin was practically dragging me by then. We'd rounded into the North Wing, when… She… The sorcerer appeared. She attacked." He was frowning deeply, making every effort to not mention Morgana's name. "She said something to me… To Merlin. I was nearly unconscious, I think. I can't remember it all well. Merlin was talking with her. She started saying something, something magic, and then… Merlin… I don't…" He scrunched up his face, thinking, but after several minutes, nothing came. He sighed and opened his eyes. "I can't remember it all. There was something there… Something unusual. I woke up here."

It was a convoluted answer at best, and it raised far more questions than it answered.

"This sorcerer," Uther said, and Arthur wished he'd never mentioned the word 'sorcerer', "You said it was a woman. Was it Morgause?"

Arthur was the only one who could see Morgana stiffen. "No," He said, and his half-sister relaxed. "No, it was someone else."

Uther nodded thoughtfully. "And you remember nothing else? Was the sorceress the one who brought you here?"

"I don't know," Arthur admitted with the shake of his head. "As I say, I was barely awake when she showed up, much less for whatever she did afterwards. If anyone, Merlin would be able to tell you what happened next, but apparently, he's decided to not wake up very easily."

Uther looked at Gaius, and the physician nodded. "I believe there may be some secondary injury or calamity keeping Merlin comatose, Sire – the Older Merlin, that is. I'm working it out, but it may be a while before he wakes up." Uther nodded, and looked back at King Arthur.

"And if she – if the sorceress _was_ the one to bring you here, would you have an idea why she would do such a thing?"

"No," Arthur said with a lost toss of his head. "I have absolutely no idea." He glanced at Morgana again, and almost wanted to ask. For clear reasons, he couldn't. "But I do know one thing," He said, voice grave, "If she _did_ bring us here, then there is every possibility that she has come here to Camelot as well."

* * *

><p>While Gaius and Arthur were away, young Merlin was bent over his older self with an intense expression on his face. He was careful to heed Gaius warnings, and made no move to physically touch his other self, his arms crossed solidly over his chest as he peered through the dim evening light down at his own older face. But it wasn't really the physical features that he was looking at. It was something deeper.<p>

Merlin had always been able to sense magic. He could sense it in things, around enchantments, and around people with magic. When he'd bent over the Older Merlin for the first time and reached out to examine him with his magic, he'd had a rather frightening sensation of looking into a mirror. His own magic, usually so internal, was shining up at him from the external world. It had shaken him enough not to try again. But then, Gaius and Arthur had left for their meeting with Uther, leaving Merlin alone with his unconscious older self, and inevitably, Merlin's curiosity got the better of him.

When he'd reached out to the older man's magic, Merlin had expected a repeat of before: a reflection (or rather, duplication, he thought) of his own magic bounced up at him. And, as he expected, that was just what happened. But dimly.

So dimly, in fact, that for a moment, it felt as though this man, this Older Self of his, had hardly any magic to his name. It alarmed Merlin, and he'd spent the whole evening scanning over the tendrils of the unconscious man's magic, trying to find a reason for its absence. But for whatever reason, the magic was either gone or hiding, and Merlin couldn't sense it. The parts that remained, he recognized. This was _his_ magic, he was sure. But where had the rest of it gone?

He jerked up when the latch on the door rose, and he knew that Arthur and Gaius were returning from their meeting. Not wanting to get in trouble with Gaius for getting too close to the Other Merlin and not wanting another awkward meeting with the Other Arthur, Merlin darted up to his room, doused the candles, and jumped in bed to feign sleep. In the other room, the door opened.

"Will I have to do that again, Gaius?" Arthur asked. He sounded tired.

"I'm not sure, Sire. I'll try and see to it that you don't. It must have been… hard." Merlin could hear liquid being poured into a glass.

"Mmm." Arthur didn't say anything else. There was a pause. "Where's Merlin?" he asked. Immediately, Merlin closed his eyes and evened out his breathing to a believable sleeping pace. After a moment, Gaius opened his door a crack and peaked in. He shut it.

"Asleep," Gaius said quietly as he stepped back down into the main room. Arthur grunted, and Merlin could hear him shuffling his shoes. It was one of Arthur's nervous habits.

"Giaus," He began uncertainly, "earlier… earlier, you told my father that you didn't know why Merlin hasn't woken up."

"Yes," Gaius said, and Merlin could tell that he was frowning. "He has no injuries, that I can see, and shows no signs of any illnesses. By all rights, he should be up by now. What are you getting at, Sire? Do you have an idea?"

"I might," Arthur said. He sighed, and there was a tense pause. Merlin didn't realize it then, but he'd begun to hold his breath.

"Is it…" Arthur paused again briefly, and if he pretended for a second that it was _Prince_ Arthur who was talking, Merlin would have thought he was second-guessing himself. "Is it because of his magic?" Arthur asked eventually.

Merlin's eyes widened and he gasped. He heard clay shattering in the other room and knew that Gaius must've dropped his glass in surprise. Merlin didn't blame him.

Arthur knew.

Arthur knew about the magic.


	6. He Knows

"Is it…" Arthur stopped, and wondered if he should even ask the question. It would raise far too many questions, and give far too many answers. He didn't know about this time travel business. He seemed to possess a very foggy memory of half-listening (and half dozing off) to Merlin drone on about his theories once, and time travel _might_ have been among the list of hypothetical forms of magic that Merlin liked to label as "tricky", (which Arthur had learned to read as "absurdly dangerous"). But then, Merlin had also listed time travel among the hypothetical forms of magic that he liked to label as "impossible". Arthur chewed his lip. He didn't know much about magic, much less magical theoretical jargon. He didn't know what Merlin had meant that one time when he'd said something about a continuum in time, and he definitely didn't bother weighing all the possible ways he could have already have potentially set things awry in his visit to the past.

All Arthur knew, at that point, was that if he didn't share his insights with Gaius, there was every chance that Melrin would not wake up for a very, very long time. And he knew that wasn't an option. So, he took a deep breath, not knowing exactly what to expect, and asked:

"Is it because of his magic?"

Arthur wasn't sure what he'd expected Gaius to do. He'd never had to worry about this scenario before, and now that he did, he realized that he hadn't the slightest inclination of what would happen. Now, he got his answer.

Gaius face froze. His hand lost its grip on his cup, and the clay shattered against the floor. Arthur winced, but Gaius didn't even blink at the crash. He only stared wide-eyed at Arthur, his face unreadable. His lack of movement was beginning to concern Arthur.

"Gaius?" He asked worriedly, and realized suddenly that the physician was beginning to sway. "Gaius," He darted forward and grabbed the man's arm before he could fall. "Careful, there," He supported him. The king's hands on his arms seemed to wake Gaius from his motionless shock, and his face registered surprise and an amount of terror that honestly hurt Arthur.

"You know?" Arthur couldn't remember having ever heard Gaius sound so vulnerable.

He blinked. "Yes," He sounded guilty, even to himself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed that you'd take that easily, it's just-"

"No," Gaius shook it off, "no no, it's… it's alright." He swallowed, and tried to steady himself again. "I… I should have expected… fifteen years, of course. Of course you should know about him." Gaius swallowed and looked down, and Arthur would never overcome his surprise to acknowledge the fact that he'd seen tears in Gaius' eyes. "You know, then." He reiterated. "You know about his magic." Something about his expression, pure relief and surprise and something else, made Arthur smile. It was a bittersweet smile.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And it all took long enough. No thanks to me," he said, voice tender. When Gaius continued to stare, Arthur realized that he was asking something different. _Merlin_. _Magic_. It had certain implications, ones that Arthur still felt guilty about. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper and said, "He never left me for dead all these years, Gaius, and I have no intentions on leaving him, either." He glanced at Merlin's unconscious figure. "Magic or otherwise."

Gaius said nothing, and only stared a moment, before he nodded, once, twice, and several more times, as if to reassure himself. He whispered something so quietly that Arthur almost couldn't hear, but it sounded like 'thank you'. After a moment to himself, Gaius regained most of his composure. "What is it," he asked, his voice slowly returning to normal, "that makes you ask about his magic?"

Arthur straightened, following Gaius' lead of returning to a normal – or at least, more normal demeanor. "You said that you could find no injury on him. I was wondering if, perhaps, he was injured, but not bodily."

Gaius frowned. "How do you mean?"

Arthur sighed again, weighing his options again. _Oh, what the hell,_ he thought, _if all this information-sharing blows us all up and blots out time completely, at least Merlin will have to wake up his own sorry ass to scold me for it._ "Gaius, everything I said at the meeting earlier, about not being able to remember… I didn't exactly tell _all _of the truth." When Gaius frowned, Arthur took it as his cue to continue. "I lied. I do remember what happened."

"Why didn't you say so at the meeting?"

Arthur sighed. "I couldn't. Not in front of my father. He… wouldn't have reacted well. It has to do with magic. With Merlin.

Gaius crossed his arms, intrigued. "Well, what about Merlin? What do you remember?"

"We were in the hall, like I said," Arthur began, "M… the sorceress began saying a spell. I didn't know what it was for, but as soon as Merlin heard what she was saying, he lunged for her. I didn't think it was a very good idea, so I lunged too, and grabbed Merlin's ankle, trying to stop him. I thought it'd worked, but then all of a sudden, we were… well… I'm not sure _where_ we went. It was all… strange. Whirling. Like we were falling, and turning. I heard… the sorceress say something." Arthur sighed. "I don't know any magic, but I do know when someone is trying to kill me. She cast some spell or other, but then, Merlin intercepted her."

"Intercepted? But how? With another spell?" Gaius seemed curious to learn of Future Merlin's capabilities.

"No. Not exactly. I don't know," Arthur frowned. "It was so strange, that's why I thought of it, why Merlin hasn't woken up. He didn't _say_ anything. I didn't even see him. He was just… _there_. I've been around his magic enough to recognize it – it was Merlin, alright. But it wasn't a spell. Just…_him_. His magic. Then, I felt an impact. It was like when someone strikes a blow to your shield – I felt the hit, but I wasn't hurt. After that, Merlin was just… Gone." He stopped talking, his eyes searching left and right for some forgotten memory. Eventually he shook his head. "That's when I must have passed out."

"Gone, you say? What do you mean?"

Arthur shrugged. "I couldn't really see or hear him, but I could… sense him. Sense his magic somehow. One minute, his magic was there, like always. Next, it's just… gone. Like its disappeared." He lowered his voice. "I think I heard him scream," it was a chilled afterthought.

Gaius stared at Arthur for some time, and then turned his head toward the unconscious Merlin.

"I wonder…" he began. Arthur perked up. He knew that tone. Gaius had an idea. And when Gaius had ideas, he was usually right.

"What?" Arthur asked excitedly. Gaius went around him to a bookshelf and started picking through volumes.

"If you know of Merlin's magic, you likely know, Merlin doesn't possess what you might call _normal_ magic," He pulled out an old tome and dusted off the pages. "Merlin does not _have_ magic,"

"He _is_ magic," Arthur finished for him. "Yes, you've told me that before." He blinked, and shook himself, "or at least, you will eventually." Gaius hardly noticed the correction and nodded.

"Yes. Which makes it a bit harder to tell, with him. But maybe…" He brushed away a cluster of bottles from his bench and laid down the thick book. He flipped through the pages with an expert eye until he came to the entry he was looking for. "When I came to Camelot, before the purge, there were a great many magicians here," he told Arthur, "and once in a while, they would fall ill with a sickness unique to magic users. They called it 'the lapses', like we would call the measles or mumps.

"Simply put, the lapses were an illness that a sorcerer or sorceress could contract when they'd exhausted their magic. They'd use magic too much, or deplete their own strength on spells too advanced for their abilities, and their magic would become weak. Normally, it would only be a matter of time before the magic recovered by itself, like a stretched muscle or a papercut. But sometimes, the magic would be hurt so severely, it would be too weak to repair itself. It would begin to shrink in on itself, disallowing the sorcerer from using magic at all – a literal lapse in magic, hence the name the sorcerers gave the condition."

"And… this sickness, the lapses, it caused its victims to fall into comas?" Arthur asked, eyes curiously darting between Gaius, his book, and Merlin. Gaius sighed and turned from his texts to Arthur.

"No, that's just why Merlin's magic can be so puzzling. You see, normally, for other sorcerers, the symptoms would be different, and very mild. They couldn't use magic, obviously, but were otherwise well off aside from a few minor symptoms. Irritability was common, insomnia, as well as a rather interesting, tell-tale itch, just at the base of the throat, between the collarbones."

"That doesn't sound like a coma," Arthur said, looking at Melrin.

"No. But Merlin's no ordinary sorcerer. It is possible…" Gaius began to trail off, and when he spoke next, Arthur knew he was theorizing. "If Merlin _is_ magic, then it is reasonable to assume that anything that harms his _magic_ harms _him. _The lapses are an affliction of the _magic_. But maybe… Maybe, if Merlin has truly depleted his magic so severely, it might _be_ the lapses, and they might be manifesting themselves not only on his magic, but on his body as well."

"Can it be healed?" Arthur sounded concerned.

"Of course, given the proper medicine and time. I need to research for Merlin's case especially, however. I'll make sure to ask Merlin – that is, the young Merlin – about it tomorrow. I may need his contribution, it being him we're healing." Arthur was surprised at how well the physician was taking all of this in stride, and thought Gaius might have picked up on the whole time travel idea quicker than he had.

"Good, good…" Arthur said, and began pacing, rubbing a hand over his beard and mustache. "It all sounds reasonable," he said to the air, "but one thing doesn't make sense… what on earth could possibly take away so much of Merlin's magic that it just _collapsed_ on itself? He's…" Arthur looked around to Gaius and sighed. "Well, _you_ know who he is, _what_ he is – how could something possibly take that away?"

Gaius sighed and tightened his lips, looking at Arthur with a frightened eye. "I don't know," he said, "but the thought worries me. If something, or someone has injured Merlin this severely by magic, we may be facing a sorcerer of a caliber higher than I thought possible, aside from Merlin himself." There was a tense pause, and Arthur could feel Gaius examining his reaction. "Arthur," the old man asked eventually, stepping carefully forward, "who was the sorceress who attacked Camelot?"

Arthur froze. He knew that Gaius and Merlin had both known about Morgana's treachery by this time, but he also knew neither of them – no one in all the world at this time – could possibly have known what Morgana would become. _Morgan le Fey_, she'd called herself, near the end, before she died and came back from the grave. Even Arthur didn't understand it all, and despite himself, even _he _couldn't bear to reveal that information.

"I don't think I should tell you," Arthur told the physician, "But I can tell you, if she is the one who hurt Merlin, and she is the one who brought us here, it means no good for any of you. Or us, for that matter. She'll give us all hell."

Gaius frowned. "Why do you say that?"

Arthur sighed, and the sadness in the gesture didn't escape Gaius' notice. "She always does."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Elsewhere<strong>_

"You've come back quickly. I hope you do not do so flippantly; I've told you how dangerous it could be."

"Of course, milady," she curtsied. "I bring news.

The Lady straightened. "You have found it?"

"No, milady, I am still looking for it. I assure you, it is only a short matter of time."

"If you have not _found_ it, then _why-"_

"They're here."

Silence.

"Who?"

"Arthur. And his servant." The Lady cursed violently. The Other winced. "You said it could happen, milady."

"Indeed," said she, trying desperately to speak calmly. "And so they are. No matter. We must take care of them quickly, however, before we can proceed."

"A minor setback. I'm sure we will-"

"On the contrary," snapped the Lady, "it is a _major_ setback. It will take every ounce of your skill and vigilance to overcome, and since it is _your_ life that hangs in the balance, I would suggest you dedicate yourself to the task with special dedication."

The Other seemed shaken, but was strong in her reply, "Of course, milady. Once I take care of Arthur, I will-"

"_No._ You must address the servant first."

"…I'm sorry?"

"I have faced them enough times to know, the servant poses a far greater threat than his master. You must kill him first."

"Milady, he is just a _boy_, a stupid, clumsy-"

"I knew he had fooled all of you; I had not known how thoroughly. Do not underestimate him. Em- … _Merlin_ is more a threat than you realize. Now would be a good time to re-evaluate your assessment of his capabilities."

"…Shall I kill the newcomer?" the Other asked, "or do away with the old as well?"

The Lady smirked to herself. She liked the way the Other thought, and felt a surge of pride for the fact. "Oh, what the hell," she sneered, "let us kill them both."

* * *

><p>Back in his room, Merlin lay in bed, frozen under the covers with his pillow hugged against him<p>

Arthur knew.

It was the one thought that kept circulating around and around in his head. He hadn't heard practically any of the conversation between Gaius and Arthur after that. He didn't _want_ to hear. He wasn't sure he could have handled it even if he had kept listening.

He'd overheard conversations between Gaius and others like this before, and many times, when it concerned him, he would immediately rush in and demand answers and explanations, but this time, it wasn't even an option in Merlin's head. He was so stricken with fear and shock that he didn't know what to do.

He always said that one day, Arthur would find out. But until that moment when he heard Future Arthur admit to knowing about Merlin's magic, he hadn't realized: he never actually _believed_ that Arthur would find out. Part of him thought that he shouldn't ever find out. Now, to know that he _did_ find out, that he _would _ find out… Merlin found himself shivering and sweating. He curled in on his gut, where he could feel his ribs quivering with nerves.

_How can Gaius sound so calm? _He wondered to himself, and was surprised to find that he was almost _mad_ at Gaius for smoothing it over with Arthur, for ignoring the sudden crisis his ward was experiencing alone in his room. _How can he just talk with him like that? He _knows_!_

Part of Merlin found it odd that he was so mad about it. In the very back of his mind, an even smaller part recognized why. He was scared – no, he was _terrified._ Magic was his life. Magic could get him killed. Magic was everything to him - life, death, and destiny, and all of his magic rested on two things: Arthur, and its own secrecy.

Now, neither of them were on steady ground.

He _knew_.

It would take a long time for Merlin to fall asleep that night, and when he finally did, it was fitful and plagued with strange dreams.


	7. Medicine and Magic

**A/N:** I've received some questions about when this story is set in between _A Second Chance_ and _Stand, Speak, Listen, Learn_. I'll do my best to clarify – sorry if it's confusion.

This takes a good eight or so years _after _the epilogue 'A Second Chance'. Balin (mentioned briefly in the first chapter of this story) is about seven or eight years old when Merlin and Arthur get taken to the past. This timeframe puts 'Recrudesce' about seven years after the _first chapter_ of 'Stand, Speak, Listen, Learn', but several years before the main body of the story. (which I haven't gotten much into yet – I'm a bit stuck on the mid-beginning bit)

Hope that clarified some. On with the update!

* * *

><p>The next morning, as they ate breakfast, Arthur tried to convince himself that he wasn't as uncomfortable as he thought he was. But damn it all, Merlin just wouldn't stop <em>staring<em>. There was something highly unnerving about having your best friend's younger self stare at you with such intensity, Arthur thought. But he didn't know if he was on good enough terms with this Younger Merlin to tell him off. Gaius didn't seem to notice. He'd had his nose stuck in a book all morning, even as he ate, the same book he'd pulled out after his discussion with Arthur. Eventually, Arthur snuck in a side-glare at the young Merlin, and the serving boy promptly looked away.

_Why_ was he staring like that? He'd gotten his chance the past few days, anyway. Why bother _now?_ Arthur was used to being looked at. One got stared at quite a bit when one was king, for better or worse. But of all people in the world, Merlin had never stared. _Glared_, occasionally, yes, but never _stared_ like his younger incarnation was doing at that moment. Arthur ate his porridge and pretended that he didn't notice.

Had someone told Arthur that he'd get the chance to go back in time and see Camelot from fifteen years ago, meet himself and the people he knew at the time, he'd have to admit that it sounded rather exciting. Of course, Arthur _hadn't_ ever given time travel much thought, but then, he was pretty sure that, had he spent even the shortest amount of time pondering the idea, he would never have come to the conclusion that it might be so boring. Which it was. _Incredibly_ boring, in fact.

No one knew quite what to do with him. His appearance had caused a stir among those that knew who he was and where he was from. Uther was keen to figure who had sent him and why (Arthur himself was equally curious) and Gaius was working behind the scenes to find any information on time travel at all. Arthur himself, however, could hardly do anything. It was infuriating to be in one's own home as an alien. That's what they viewed him as, Arthur knew. He couldn't simply walk about the castle and expect for people to listen to him. Besides the people, the interior of the palace itself was no longer the same as he remembered it; there was no Round Table, no second throne, no training rooms for the Watch, and perhaps most irritatingly, the spire that Arthur only knew as Merlin's Tower was run-down, empty, and completely off-limits.

The fact was irritating because, back in the future-time that he remembered, if anything remotely strange or magical happened that had Arthur in a pickle, he had only to make the trek up to Merlin's tower of books and ask the warlock (who was far wiser and more intelligent that Arthur would ever admit) what the blazes was going on. Without fail, Merlin would know the answer. He'd pull up some memory or find a book, or, if all else failed, would think up _some way_ to find the answer. It may take a while, but Merlin would find a way. He always did.

Arthur glared over at the unconscious sorcerer. He certainly was taking his time about it, the king thought.

After Young Merlin left to go attend to Arthur's younger self, Arthur spent the day helping Gaius in any way he could manage, and asked occasionally about Merlin. He watched with interest as the physician mixed together a pungent-smelling cocktail and poured a dose into a cup.

"The potion used to treat the lapses," Gaius explained to the displaced king as he watched over his shoulder. "I can't say if it'll work well on someone like Merlin, but until I finish my research, it should get him started back on the way to recovery."

"Will it wake him up?" Arthur asked as Gaius stood from his work bench.

"I can't say. It can't hurt him, but I'm not sure if it'll do any good, either. At this point, any progress will be better than none. Help me to sit him up, will you?" Arthur darted around to the other side of Merlin's cot and slid an arm underneath the comatose man's shoulders. Gaius reached a hand up to steady the warlock's lolling head as he pressed the cup to his lips.

"Hopefully he'll swallow it without trouble. I did make extra, anyway." Gaius opened Merlin's jaw and poured the watery medicine into his mouth. Although some spilled out of his mouth, Merlin swallowed most of it with minimal resistance, and something about seeing the man's adam's apple bob up and down so familiarly gave Arthur hope. Maybe this _would_ wake Merlin up. He hoped so. Merlin was the only one who had a chance at knowing what they should do to fix their situation.

"Give me that cup of water, please," Gaius asked, and Arthur did so quickly. The physician tipped the clean water to Merlin's lips. "If this _does_ wake him up, he won't thank me when he tastes that medicine. Best to get it off his tongue now, before he can complain." Gaius turned an inquisitive eyebrow to Arthur. "Does he still complain like he does now?"

Arthur couldn't help but smile. "Yes. Mostly to irritate me, I suspect." Gaius hummed in response and, after he was sure Merlin had swallowed everything he'd had put in his mouth and showed no signs of gagging, laid the man back down. He took the moment of attention on Merlin to re-examine him briefly. "Arthur," He asked as he checked the man's pulse, "I was meaning to ask you. When I was examining Merlin for injuries, I came across a rather peculiar scar, one I've never seen before."

"Oh?" Arthur asked, eyebrows coming down in thought.

"On his right thigh, a bit above his knee. Just here," the physician gestured to the area, although it was covered by Merlin's leggings, now. "Long and straight. It looks like a blade cut." He cast curious and worried – yes, Arthur could see that he was worried, even though he was trying to hide it – eyes on the royal. Arthur pursed his lips, considering his answer. He hadn't been burned yet by telling anyone in this past-era about the future; it was hard _not_ to explain.

"It… _was_ a blade cut. In a manner of speaking," Arthur said cryptically.

"How do you mean?" Gaius asked, and seeing the king's uneasy look, added, "I only wanted to make sure it hasn't caused any lasting damage that could affect his recovery. From the look of it, it must have been a serious injury."

Arthur sighed. "It was serious," he said, and avoided Gaius' eyes as he explained, "Long story short: there was a battle. Merlin was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He broke his leg – the femur bone, I remember you called it. The scar is from the surgery it took to set the bone."

Gaius' look of horror was tame, but grew as Arthur spoke. He looked down at Merlin, then back up at Arthur. "Can he – can he still walk?"

"What?" Arthur looked confused, "of course he can."

"It's just… injuries of that nature can cripple a man. For life."

Arthur understood, and was quick to assure Gaius, "No, believe me, he still runs around with as much energy as ever. Although sometimes he has to use – oh." Arthur looked suddenly glum. Gaius frowned.

"What is it?"

"Sometimes, his leg does get sore, and he uses a walking staff to ease the pain. A staff which did not, it appears, make it here with him." Arthur looked around the room quickly, as if to make sure that Merlin's staff wouldn't magically appear somehow. "He won't be too happy about _that_ when he wakes up. He's rather fond of it," and Gaius couldn't help but notice the rueful tone behind Arthur's voice.

"Well," the physician reasoned, "we have plenty of walking sticks here, as well, if he needs them." Although the idea of his springy young ward one day needing a _walking stick_ to aide a disability sustained in battle saddened him more than he might admit, Gaius was doing his best to be flexible.

"No," Arthur sighed annoyedly, "It's not _just_ a walking stick – if it were, he would never suffer using it. It's a magic staff as well." Gaius's eyebrows rose. "He made it himself, and is far too proud of it, if you ask me." He resisted the urge to rub the spot on his head where Merlin liked whacking him. "I suppose I'll have to find something that will substitute when he wakes up."

"Right, well," Gaius said, peering down at his patient once more, "I'll look into it. But now, I've some more patients to tend to down in the lower town, and I still need to ask Merlin about the cure for the lapses… or, whatever he may have. I need details about his magic." He picked up his medical kit and strung it over one shoulder. "I'm not sure when I'll be back. Merlin usually comes back late, but then, you probably remember that." Gaius gave him a gracious smile, and Arthur smiled back, trying to shake the feeling that he was a tween being briefed by a concerned parent. "There's lunch in the pantry. I've asked for Guinevere to come help tend to Merlin while he and I are away. She knows you're here, and offered to cook dinner." Arthur felt his chest tighten and jump at the same time. _Of course she did,_ he thought with a small smile.

"Thank you, Gaius."

"Of course Sire." The physician turned and, before got to the door, turned and added, "Arthur… I am sorry about keeping you cooped up like this. I hope you can understand," he said.

"It's alright, Gaius. I do understand. I only wish I could be of more help."

"Well, actually…" Gaius crept back towards the king. "There is… If you would like to start looking for something – anything, really – about time travel… I have a few _special_ books hidden up in the back of that top shelf, there," Gaius motioned to a tall rack of books, and Arthur followed his gaze. "I've only kept them for sake of preservation. I've not looked in them for years. But perhaps…" He shrugged, and turned back away. "I'm sure you remember, though. Be careful."

"Of course, Gaius. Thank you." Arthur spared the physician with a strong, honest nod. He knew that keeping secret magic books were tantamount to treason in this time, and although he had grown accustomed to magic that was _not_ evil, he knew his younger counterpart (and his father) would not be as forgiving. Gaius nodded several times, bid a final goodbye, and left.

Arthur climbed up to the shelf carefully, and pulled out a layer of dusty books to find a small collection of books, pressed sideways behind the others, flat against the back of the shelf. He pulled them all out and dusted them off. After a few moments of thought, he pulled out a few other non-magic books at random, with the intentions of hiding the magic books under them, should someone suddenly enter the room. Time with Merlin had made him a bit keener to these types of matters. He sat down at Gaius' bench and opened the first book. A cloud of dust erupted form the ancient pages and he coughed. Mercifully, the text was in English, but the font was dramatic and hard to decipher. He knew he'd have a headache before this was over.

"Oh, the things I do for you, you idiot," He said to Merlin. Naturally, the warlock did not answer.

* * *

><p>"Has your <em>Other Self<em> woken up yet?" Arthur asked, trying to make his voice sound teasing. He was failing at it rather miserably. The situation was too strange.

"No," Merlin said as he shook out Arthur's sheets. "Gaius is trying to figure out what's wrong with him." _But you already figured that out, Arthur,_ he wanted to say, _because apparently your Older Self knows about my magic!_ Merlin had come to realize that it wasn't actually _Arthur_ he was afraid of. He truly did believe that, one day, Arthur would be able to handle the truth about Merlin without killing him. After a lot of thinking, Merlin realized he wasn't afraid of Arthur finding out, of Arthur's reaction. He was simply afraid of him _knowing_.

And it wasn't just Arthur. Just the idea of people knowing – not _just_ Gaius, or _just _Lancelot, but the idea of people, in general, publically knowing about Merlin's magic made him inexplicably terrified. Perhaps it was because it'd been drilled into him from the crib up that he mustn't _ever _let _anyone_ know about his magic, maybe it was because he sometimes liked to pretend that he wasn't Emrys or that he didn't have a great destiny, or maybe it was merely the fact that it was all such a foreign concept, but somehow, something about the idea made Merlin terrified. He might have realized the fact before, but hearing the Older Arthur admit to Gaius openly about Merlin's magic slapped Merlin in the face with the reality that, should all go according to plan, one day _everyone _would know about him. _Everyone_.

He knew he should want that.

Shouldn't he?

"I haven't seen _my_ Other Self walking about the castle, either," Arthur interrupted his thoughts. "It was uncanny, when he was in the hall talking to Father, Morgana and myself." He shook his head. "I'm not sure if I should avoid him or… or talk to him. It's strange."

"Mmm," Merlin agreed, picking up some discarded clothing. "Gaius is keeping him cooped up in his chambers for now. He's not sure it's a good idea for them to be interacting with us. He doesn't know much about time travel."

Arthur scoffed. "As if _anyone_ would."

"Not anymore, I suppose," Merlin said easily. He only realized afterwards, when Arthur went silent, that he'd indirectly blamed Uther for their ignorance. Well, of course, no one would know about time travelling magic. Not after The Purge.

"Anyway," Arthur said after a while, "I'm not sure I want to think about it too long. But I promised Leon I'd train normally with him and the knights today, despite whatever odd circumstances might have appeared overnight." The prince did his best to look confident and uncaring of the strange magic that was plaguing his mind. "Grab my armor and let's go."

Merlin groaned and trudged over to the armor cupboard, wondering if his Other Self had to put up with Arthur's training sessions in the future.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **But some strange stroke of inspiration, I've actually finished writing most of the _next_ chapter of this story as well, so you'll be seeing that relatively shortly.


	8. How Fitting

**A/N:** Told you I'd update quickly. And what d'you know? I've finished most of the _next_ chapter, too! Looks like things will be speeding up around here, I've hit a spurt of inspiration.

* * *

><p>When Guinevere arrived, Arthur was hunched over his reading with an intense expression. He'd finished one book and skipped another two that were written in gibberish. (alright, not gibberish – magic-ish) He'd taken note of one or two passages that could, possibly, contain vague references to time travel, but even as he reached the last third of his current volume, he'd found no significant leads, and he was falling asleep.<p>

The sound of the door opening actually made him jump up in his seat and he realized that he must have dozed off. Hastily, he shut the book he was holding, shoved it under another nondescript tome, and grabbed a new book off the shelf. He picked a random place to start reading and wished he'd picked a more interesting title than _Botany for the Medically Inclined_. He tried to look interested anyway. He could hear Guinevere creeping towards his corner of the room.

"Hello…?" She hadn't seen him yet. He heard her pause in the part of the room where he knew she'd be able to see Merlin's sleeping form clearly.

"Gwen?" He called, somewhat timidly. If meeting the younger version of your best friend was weird, meeting the younger version of your spouse was _unbearably_ weird.

Gwen peaked around the bookshelf and tried hard to smile at him. He felt his heart soften. She was shy, like he remembered her being, but now he was older and wiser, and able to appreciate the depth of how _gentle_ she was by nature, even at this young age. She was in her maid's clothes and her hair was frizzily falling in her face, but he thought she was beautiful. It hurt him to realize he couldn't tell her so.

"Sire," She curtsied, and he frowned. "It's umm… That is, I came to…"

"Gaius told me," Arthur said, and she gave him another nervous smile.

"Of course." There was an awkward pause. "What are you reading?" She asked.

Arthur had forgotten, but said anyway: "Just keeping myself occupied. Trying to help Gaius figure out what's got him konked out for so long," he pointed to Merlin, and Gwen looked back at the unconscious man.

"It's… really weird," she said, "to have you both here." She paused and realized what she said. "I mean, not in… not a _bad way_. Even though you're not supposed to be here, but. Well, supposed to be _in Camelot_, I'm sure, but not _now._ Here. That is…well, it's a bit odd for me." She finished with a forced smile, her cheeks blazing. It was nearly impossible for Arthur to hide his smile. It was all so_ Gwen_.

"It's odd for me, too," he said, and knew she'd hear his amusement in his voice. She did, and blushed deeper.

"Gaius said he'd need another dose of his medication?" she said, changing the subject. Arthur nodded.

"Right. It's… just here." He plucked up the bottle that Gaius had left for them, and a small cup along with it. He handed them to Gwen.

"Thank you, Sire."

"Don't," He said, and the suddenness of the word made both of them pause. He cleared his throat and said more calmly, "You don't have to call me that."

She looked confused. "Call you what?"

"Sire," Arthur said, finding it hard to meet her eyes. "You don't have to call me Sire. Please, it's just Arthur." She looked at him as though he'd told her that the sky was green. "Is just… a bit odd for me, we'll say," He smiled, and after a moment, she nodded.

"Thank you, S- _Arthur_." Her mouth handled the word awkwardly, and her tone betrayed her confusion. Arthur followed her to Merlin's cot, wondering if he should have insisted.

"Let me help you," He said as Gwen tried to get Merlin to drink the potion. After Arthur wrestled the man's dead weight up into a semi-sitting position and Gwen got him to swallow his medicine, the two went to their respective activities in silence. Gwen began cooking dinner, and Arthur tried and failed to think up a way to read the magic books without Gwen noticing. He settled on a text far more boring and ended up nodding off anyway. He was saved when Gwen realized that Gaius' pantry was fresh out of bread. Arthur jumped up and immediately offered to fetch some. She was surprised at his eagerness, but he only shrugged and said, "I've been cooped up all day – anything to get out of here." He realized after the fact that this sounded rude. "And to help," he tacked on to late. She smiled at him a bit oddly, but nodded in thanks.

After a feat of dodging too-curious guards, avoiding the royal suites entirely, and somehow tricking the cook (who he knew had bad vision) into thinking that he was _Prince_ Arthur, Arthur had successfully acquired a fresh tray of hot dinner rolls, and bore them back to Gaius' chambers feeling rather accomplished. He had every intention of retelling his adventure for Guinevere's sake, but after seeing her fully-cooked dinner sitting there on the table, he realized how hungry he was and forgot about his story. He thanked her for the meal and eagerly tucked into his plate. Somewhere between his bite of chicken and mouthful of water, Gwen asked rather innocently,

"Who is Balin?"

He choked on his meal and swallowed with difficulty. "What?" He asked incredulously through a cough.

Gwen looked uneasy. "Merlin, he… He started talking in his sleep." Arthur looked over at the warlock, but he looked as calm as ever. "Not much," she said hastily, "mostly mumbling. But… for a minute, he was talking to someone called Balin. I wondered who that was, is all."

Arthur was still looking at Merlin. "What did he say to him?" He asked.

"To stay safe," Gwen told him, and even as Arthur turned to her, his face melted into a pure expression of pity and concern. He sighed and looked back at Merlin.

"Who is he?" Gwen asked again. Arthur looked up at her, wondering if he should say. It was something that he felt he _shouldn't_ tell her, but then, this was Gwen. She was smart. Arthur had caught her staring at Merlin's wedding band earlier, no doubt she'd noticed his, too. She would probably figure it out eventually, Arthur felt.

"Balin," he said, taking a swig of water to clear his throat, "is the name of Merlin's son."

Gwen reacted with surprise, as Arthur expected. She blinked several times and looked down at her food. "Oh," was all she said. Arthur felt some obligation to say something else.

"The last time we saw him… It was before the attack." He assumed Gwen had heard of the circumstances to which he was referring. Her unchanged expression told him as much. "There was no time to find him before we had to flee. Before we… ended up here, I remember mentioning him to Merlin." He looked sadly down at the table. "He had no idea where he was."

"How old is he?" Gwen asked hesitantly. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself.

"Now _that_, I don't know if I should tell you."

She blushed. "I'm sorry. I just… is he old enough to… will he be alright?" Arthur almost smiled. Of course Gwen would be the one to accept all this crazy new information and still find time to be concerned for the welfare of a person she hadn't met yet.

"Balin is young, but clever," Arthur said. "He can take care of himself, if need be. He'll be fine." He wondered if Gwen realized he was saying it to himself as much as he was to her. She only nodded, satisfied and given plenty to think about, and resumed eating her dinner.

After they ate, Gwen watched him with a thoughtful and impressed expression as he rose and took the dirty dishes without a word, washing them off in a nearby basin. With a flush of self-consciousness, Arthur realized it was because the Arthur _she _knew would never such a menial task, especially not without complaining. He felt a wave of humility. He'd forgotten how much he'd changed. And of course, a large part of that he owed to Gwen herself.

After the remnants of dinner were cleared up, it was an awkward evening. Gwen had promised Gaius that she'd stay by Merlin's side and tend to whatever seemed to be needed, but Arthur felt bored and useless. He couldn't continue his research, and being in the same room with Younger Gwen was too strange to bear in silence. Eventually, he announced that he needed some fresh air and left.

It was dark enough that he didn't think a little stroll would do much harm, so Arthur pulled up his hood and enjoyed the cool evening breeze. He hoped the fact that Merlin had begun to talk in his sleep meant that he'd wake up soon. Arthur could sure use his help, about now.

* * *

><p>Gwen was actually nodding off when she heard the door open again. Thinking it was Older Arthur come back from his walk, she straightened up and tried not to look flustered. She was surprised to see Morgana walk through the door.<p>

"My lady," Gwen acknowledged, and curtsied. Morgana smiled at her.

"Gwen, what are you doing here?"

"I promised Gaius to that I'd stay today and tend to Merlin. Well, _that_ Merlin, anyway." She pointed, and sighed. "It's all so weird."

"It is…" Morgana studied the older figure.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Gwen asked. Morgana shook herself.

"Oh, I came to get my sleeping draught from Gaius. Is he not here?"

Gwen shook her head. "No, not yet." She fought back a yawn with little success. "I'll bring it back for you… when…" she had to yawn. "Oh, I'm sorry milady," She apologized, but Morgana smiled and laid a hand on her arm.

"Don't be silly, Gwen, you're exhausted. Go home, get some rest. I'll wait for Gaius myself."

"You sure?" Gwen looked nervous.

"Of course – don't worry, it's fine. I'll keep an eye on Merlin for you until Gaius gets back." Her expression softened. "Go sleep, Gwen."

Gwen smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you, milady," She gave a curtsy out of habit and smiled as she left. The moment the door was shut, Morgana's expression transformed and she turned around to glare at Merlin's sleeping face.

"I knew you were irritating," She spat lowly, "I never knew you'd come back fifteen years to prove it." She took a long moment to study the Older Merlin's face before she turned and glanced around Gaius' chambers. She went to a cabinet filled with bottles of various shapes and colors and scanned over the labels. Her eyes roamed about the organized chaos with indecision, but then her eyes lighted on one particular bottle and she could not hold back the smirk that drew itself on her face.

"Only fitting," she said to herself. She plucked the bottle from its place and went back over to Merlin.

"I wish you were awake," She said. "It'd be more enjoyable, and I have some things I'd just _love_ to ask you. But I'm on a tight schedule at the moment. You'll understand." She uncorked the bottle and moved to tip it against Merlin's lips.

The door opened.

Her concentration shattered, Morgana froze and slammed the bottle back down onto the table by Merlin's head. She jumped back from the figure and slid her mask back on.

"Oh," the newcomer breathed in heavily, "it smells good in here. Don't tell me that you've let Arthur eat all the food, Giaus, I'm starv-" And it was Merlin who came to stand in front of her, a startled expression on his face. "Lady Morgana," he said, his voice clipped with surprise.

"Merlin," She said, and let the pretense of smiling pass.

"W-What are you doing here?" He glanced around, and had to pretend that his heart didn't begin beating faster when he saw that she stood near his Older Self's body.

"Waiting for Gaius," She said, and when he gave her a blank expression, added, "for my sleeping draught."

Merlin didn't believe her, and both of them knew it. "He's out for the night," Merlin said, his eyes never leaving Morgana's face. "He'll not be back for some time." He crept cautiously towards and around Morgana to a shelf that stood behind her. He pulled off a bottle and held it out for her.

"Here's the draught," he said. She glared at it, then at him. She stepped forward and placed her hand on it, and used the grip to draw herself closer to him, so her mouth was by his ear.

"You sure it's not _poisoned_?" She hissed. He looked suddenly hurt, and didn't meet her eyes. She took it, and stalked out of the room.

Merlin went quickly over to his Older Self and looked for signs of any dark designs by Morgana. He did a double-take when he saw the bottle by his head, which was still uncorked. He picked it up and looked at the label. He paled.

_Hemlock_.

He panicked. He knew that Gaius said specifically _not_ to touch his older self, but really, what else was Merlin supposed to do? He put his palm over the older man's brow, ignoring the strangeness of it all, and used his magic to probe out any poison in his system. His heart was pounding, but he found nothing. He was nearly done when Arthur walked in.

"Merlin," the King started forward, "Merlin, what are you _doing_? Gaius said that was dangerous!" In other circumstances, Arthur might have considered his discomfort around the younger Merlin, but at that moment, could only think of what might go wrong.

"I'm sorry, I know, I know," the Young Merlin sounded scared, "I… I was just making sure he was alright."

"Alright? Aside from being unconscious? Gaius is sorting it, you don' t need to-"

"No," Merlin insisted, pointing vaguely toward the door. "Morgana was here."

Arthur's change of mood was instantaneous. "What?" He asked, voice deep and serious. "Which Morgana? What did she do?"

"Nothing. Nothing, but she was trying to, well…" Merlin dumbly held out the bottle so Arthur could see the label. The color drained from Arthur's face. A long silence followed.

At length, Merlin asked quietly, "What did you mean, 'which Morgana'?"

Arthur looked at him, unsure of what to say. Merlin tried to read his face and eventually said,

"She's the one who took you here, isn't she." His eyes were wide but steady on Arthur's face. "She's the witch you were talking about. Who attacked Camelot."

Arthur found he couldn't say anything. His face filled with sadness and he looked on the younger version of his best friend with deep apology. That look told Merlin all he wanted to know, and the young sorcerer let out a sigh, his head falling forward.

_Hemlock_, he thought with hurt weighing on his chest, _how fitting_.


	9. Problematic

**A/N:** Told you I'd update quickly! Unfortunately, this is the last of the update spree, unless I find another burst of inspiration. Just wanted to say as well, thank y'all for reading! You guys are great with your reviews, and I am really happy to know you enjoy my story so far. The plot unveils bit by bit! See if you can pick up on some things that may be important in this chapter.

* * *

><p>Needless to say, Gaius had been incredibly alarmed when his ward and Arthur informed him of Morgana's attempt on Merlin's life just earlier that evening.<p>

"It _looked_ like Morgana – like, Morgana as I know her, _now_." Merlin said when Arthur asked again. Gaius didn't look surprised when he found out that Morgana had led the attack against Camelot in the future, but was quite alarmed when Arthur made it sound like there might be _more than one _Morgana roaming about Camelot. Merlin was adamant that it was their own Morgana that he'd seen.

"But why would _she_ want to kill you?" Arthur asked, and Merlin shared a look with Gaius. Arthur saw it. "I mean, I know that she… well, that she doesn't exactly _love _you about now, but why attack him?" Arthur pointed back to Older Merlin, asleep on his cot. "What good would that do her?"

"Because it's still _me_," Merlin said.

"Well, true. Still, it's astonishing that she's grasped onto this whole time travel thing so quickly, don't you think? Enemy or not, I thought she'd be a bit dumbfounded to try, at least for a while. Unless of course it was Morgana from _my time_."

"And you think _she_ would do this?" Merlin asked, almost afraid. Arthur looked saddened.

"Without hesitation," He said.

"But if Merlin said it _looked_ like our Morgana… She does look different in the future, doesn't she, Arthur?" Gaius turned a curious look to the king. Arthur almost laughed.

"Oh, very different."

"You think she could have used magic to change her appearance?" Gaius asked.

"If anyone can, she can," Merlin chimed in.

"And I definitely wouldn't put it past her," Arthur said. There was a silence as the three processed their thoughts privately.

"Right," Gaius said at length, and drew a shaky breath. "Well, let's just make sure all of my poisons are safely hidden away from now on, and hope we can wake Merlin before she tries something again. I've yet to figure out the rest of that potion, but… here's to hoping." Gaius moved around Merlin and Arthur to take the bottle of hemlock which still stood out on the table and put it safely away. "Merlin, it might be in our best interests if you go and lock the doors and windows, tonight." And although they all knew it would do no good against a sorceress, he obeyed anyway. Gaius turned to Arthur. "Did you find anything… interesting in your reading today?" He asked quietly. Arthur gave a half-nod, and glanced at Merlin, who he thought was doing too good a job at _not_ eavesdropping.

"Yeah, I made a few notes…" He led Gaius over to the one book that had proved helpful, and turned to a half-sentence long reference he'd noted. "It's not much, but here it says something about _"…energy tantamount to that required for a trans-time portal shift – see studies of Golcar c. 374…"_

"Golcar?" Gaius asked, reading off the page that Arthur had indicated.

"What, is it a spell or something?"

"No. I… I've _heard_ that somewhere before…"

"Well, I looked, the book doesn't say it anywhere else. I've not the foggiest idea what it means."

"Nor I," Gaius said, staring at the word. "It may be a name. I'm not sure who. But… I thought I might…" He sighed. "Oh, I'm such an old man. It may be nothing, but I'll see what I can find out about it in my studies. Keep looking when you have the time." He nodded to the stack of books that still remained, and Arthur nodded. "Not now, though. We all need sleep."

Before they turned in for the night, Merlin helped Arthur move his cot into Merlin's small bedroom. It was an close fit alongside one wall, but Gaius was quickly running out of space in his main chambers and until Merlin's older counterpart decided to wake up and they figured out some new sleeping arrangements, sacrifices would have to be made for the sake of expediency.

Arthur didn't find it _too_ uncomfortable to share a room, even with such a strange roommate as his best friend sans a good decade and a half, but Merlin felt and looked incredibly uncomfortable as the two got ready for sleep.

As he watched the younger man out of the corner of his eye, Arthur was nursing a small itch of thought that had been pestering him all evening. Something had begun to bug him about what Merlin had said, after Arthur had come in after Morgana. Something… He hadn't known what it was until a few minutes ago, when he'd finally remembered something Merlin had said.

"_She was the one who attacked Camelot, wasn't she?"_ he'd said.

But he couldn't have said that. He couldn't have known that. Unless…

"You were eavesdropping on us, weren't you?" Arthur asked rather suddenly, and Merlin froze.

"W-what?"

"Last night, when Gaius and I were speaking. You heard us." It would explain a lot, Arthur thought. The stares, the awkward handling around him, even when Merlin was trying _far_ too hard to appear aloof as he and Gaius conversed over spell books. When Young Merlin stared at him wide-eyed but speechless, Arthur added: "You couldn't have known that there was a witch who attacked Camelot, otherwise," He said. "That only came up twice. Once, at the meeting with my father, and the second time in my conversation with Gaius. You were present for neither. Unless, of course, you were unseen." And although Arthur's voice was firm, he worked to keep his facial expression calm and unthreatening. He knew that what he was implying would lead them to a delicate topic.

Merlin sputtered for a moment before saying rather unconvincingly, "Arthur told me," he said. Older Arthur smiled halfheartedly.

"He could have, I'm sure," He looked at Merlin with kind eyes. "But your hesitation just now tells me that he didn't." There was a pregnant pause. "I know you're good at fake-sleeping, Merlin. And I'm not too hurt that you listened in on us, if that's what you're thinking. Don't think I'd have resisted either, if I were you." He sat down on his bed and slapped his pillow to fluff it. Merlin remained standing and peered down at Arthur.

"So you know," was all he said. Arthur nodded and looked up at him. Merlin's lips were in a thin line.

"I do," he said gently.

Merlin swallowed. "…How long have you known, in your time?"

Arthur gave him an apologetic grin. "I don't think I should tell you."

"Oh." Merlin looked disappointed but unsurprised. He sat down on his bed, and in the dull candlelight that remained, Arthur could see he was frowning.

"It scares you," the king said. When Merlin didn't answer, he added: "Merlin, you've nothing to fear from me, you should know that."

Merlin looked up at him. "What? No. No, it's not that… that I'm afraid of _you…_" He twiddled his thumbs in a way that Arthur had seen before, somewhere between discomfort and thought. "It's just… all of it. No, I know I can trust you." He side-glanced the king. "Eventually, you'll be ready. But… It's weird… to say that, _think_ it… but then, to see it… it's very different." Arthur smiled at that.

"True."

"Obviously you were ready to find out. But… I wonder if _I'll_ be ready. I'm not afraid of you. Not really. I figured out that much. But it's… the _idea_ scares me. Of people knowing. Of… of being _exposed_. I don't know." The sorcerer shrugged in discomfort, pulled back his blanket and rolled into bed with his back to Arthur. The king sighed and watched him for a moment before he blew out the candle and laid down in his own bed.

After several minutes of thought, he glanced over at Merlin's still form across the room. "Merlin," he said to the darkness, "I know it might not mean much, coming from me, and I know I'm from the future and all so it's even weirder than it would be otherwise…" and he wondered if he should have even started talking in the first place. He plowed on. "But I want you to know, that it all does end up alright. You've nothing to fear from the future." He said, and thought it sounded much lamer in the open air than it had in his head. "Least of all from me."

And although his tone was warm and his words heartfelt, Merlin didn't reply. Where he lie motionless but awake across the room, the warlock was frowning. _Yes,_ he thought, _nothing to fear – but at what cost?_

* * *

><p>Something was attempting to wake him. Arthur groaned quietly but did not move.<p>

"Arthur, wake up," Someone said, shaking his shoulder.

In the past, he probably would have thrown a punch or two, but if marriage and fatherhood had taught him anything, it was how to tolerate rude awakenings without throwing fits.

"_Please_ wake up," the voice repeated with another shake. Arthur frowned in his sleep as he realized how urgent the voice sounded. Something about it hit through Arthur's subconscious and appealed to his protective side, and he could only think of the times when his daughter had woken him because she'd had a nightmare.

"What is it?" He asked groggily, rolling over. He knew whomever it was that was waking him stood at his shoulder, but strangely, he couldn't see them, even after he opened his eyes. He realized after a confused moment that the room was still doused in darkness. It was the dead of night. The voice at his shoulder spoke again, and this time, Arthur realized it was Merlin's younger counterpart.

"He's waking up," he told Arthur, "I don't know what to do."

It took a moment for Arthur to understand.

_Merlin_. He was waking up.

Immediately, Arthur threw off his blanket and went to the door of Merlin's room, peering through the crack between the door and the wall. He could see where the Older Merlin was turning fitfully in his cot, muttering.

"When he start doing that?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know," Merlin replied, at Arthur's shoulder. "It woke me up a few minutes ago."

Arthur nodded. "Where's Gaius?"

"Asleep."

Arthur looked away from the Older Merlin and found Gaius' bed with his eye, where the heavily-sleeping physician was still snoring softly. "Stay here," Arthur told him. "If he does wake up, we don't want _you_ to be the first thing he sees." He blinked and looked at Young Merlin. "No offense."

The boy brushed it off with a shrug, the frightened expression never leaving his moonlit face. Arthur nodded and quietly inched open the door. He closed it behind him and descended into the room, casting back a look at the door where he knew Young Merlin would be watching. He crossed over to his longtime friend, who to all eyes looked like he was having a nightmare.

"Merlin," He whispered, grabbing the warlock's shoulder. Usually a complacent waker, Merlin swatted at Arthur's hand and verbally protested. The king cast a glance at Gaius. Still asleep. "Merlin, you need to wake up." Arthur couldn't understand what the warlock was saying, but it seemed to be in response to Arthur's voice. He continued tossing and throwing his hands in Arthur's general direction. The king huffed. "Oh come on, you idiot, _wake up_." And when that didn't quite do the trick, Arthur decided he'd had enough and, disregarding any damage still lingering on Merlin's person, slapped him soundly across the face.

Merlin's eyes shot open, his mouth wide and open to let out some expression of pain. Arthur slapped a hand over it, and the warlock's eyes adjusted to the light and found Arthur's silhouette.

"Ahhhtmm?" even muffled behind his hand, Arthur could tell Merlin's voice was hoarse from his long sleep.

"Yes, it's me. Gaius is asleep," Arthur whispered, nodding his head toward the physician's bed. Merlin understood and nodded. He peeled Arthur's hand away from his mouth and winced.

"Oh," he moaned, grimacing and lifting a hand to his head. "My _head_… d'you have any water?" He asked. Arthur nodded and left, returning shortly with a glass which he handed to Merlin. The warlock worked himself into a sitting position and began to drink it greedily, but quickly recalled the lessons he'd learned from Gaius and began taking it in sips instead.

"What _happened_ back there?" He asked between drinks.

Arthur sighed. "Well, that's a rather interesting story, actually."

"Morgana…" Merlin muttered, trying to piece together a memory. "Balin… Your _shoulder_…"

"Merlin, now hold on a second, I need to explain-"

"She found us. And then…"

"Yes, but really, I-"

"Some _spell_, or something…"

"Merlin, there's something you should know, before you go any farther…"

"Arthur," Merlin interrupted, not listening and looking about himself for the first time. "Where are we?" His eyes said they were in Gaius' chambers, but there was something… something _else. _Something wrong. There was a pause as Merlin took in his surroundings and eventually looked back to the king. "Arthur?"

Arthur stared. He knew he shouldn't tell him like this. He couldn't. Merlin was in too fragile a state as it was. But he couldn't help it. Arthur had always been blunt by nature. "We're in the past." He said.

Merlin stared. Incomprehension dotted his expression. "What?" He asked after a moment.

"That spell, that Morgana said." He blinked. "It sent us into the past."

Merlin's head slowly dipped toward the king, his eyes growing large. "The… past." He said. Arthur watched him, not knowing what to expect.

"Yes."

Merlin began to blink rapidly. "The past." He said again. "So that…" he looked over to where Gaius was sleeping. "That… that's…"

"Gaius. From fifteen years ago."

Merlin turned a gaping expression back to Arthur. "_Fifteen_…? Oh, lord." He put a hand to his stomach, and for a terrible moment Arthur thought he'd be lunching for the sick bucket, but Merlin was able to steady himself and swallowed hard. "Fifteen years in the past. Time travel. Spell. Morgana. Right. Arthur," He tilted his head back toward the king, "I think I'm going to fall back down, now."

Arthur wasn't sure he understood until Merlin's torso was tipping back and the king had to dart forward and catch him. He lowered him the rest of the way back down onto his cot. The sorcerer was breathing quickly, but didn't look to be in any danger of hyperventilation. "Sorry," He said between breaths, "my muscles… don't seem to be cooperating. How long was I asleep for?"

"Several days, now. Take it easy. I'm sorry to break it all to you now, but… I thought you ought to know before anything weird happens. If it's any consolation, you're taking this all worlds better than I did."

"Oh?" Merlin almost smiled at him.

"Yeah. Saw your younger self and went ballistic."

"M-my _younger self_?" Merlin tossed his head back up against the pillow. "Oh, _hell_."

"More or less my reaction."

"I suppose it makes sense. Where is he now? Where is _your _younger self?"

"He's… sleeping. They both are. Arthur is in the castle, obviously."

"And Merlin?" Merlin thought it was strange to use his own name in reference to someone else.

"…In his room." Arthur said, resisting the urge to look.

Merlin knew Arthur was hiding something, but he decided it was better to not call him on it. He took a few steadying breaths. The past. _Time travel_. Morgana had sent them here. But how? Why? And how in the name of Camelot were they supposed to get back? "Right," Merlin said at length. "Right. Well. This is a bit of a mess then, isn't it?"

Arthur snorted. "Something like."

"Not to mention my poor head. And my _throat_." He clawed at an immaterial itch. "Do you know where Gaius keeps his feverfew tinctures?"

"His… what?"

Merlin sighed. "Pain medication. He keeps them in small, dark square bottles over in that cabinet there." Merlin pointed, and Arthur could only just make out the shape of a cupboard through the darkness.

"Small, square. Right." The king stood and took a few careful steps, but blast it, he couldn't see a thing. "Uh… don't suppose you could help me out here, could you?"

"Oh, sorry," Merlin said. "_Leot_."

Nothing happened.

"_Leot,_" He repeated, and again, and again. He stopped talking and was reduced to staring at his open palm with panic rising in his mind. Through the darkness, Arthur called back,

"Uh, Merlin?"

"We have a problem," the warlock said, his voice cracking slightly.

"What? What's wrong?"

Merlin gulped. "I can't use my magic."


	10. A Little Bit Weird

Morgana awoke with a start. She'd felt something. Through her magic. Something had gone wrong. She traced the disturbance back to its source and growled. _"No!"_ She threw the covers off herself, cursing, and went to the window.

Her eyes honed in on the place where she knew he'd be. He was _awake_. And he was about to throw a wrench in her plans, like he always did. _Damn him._

They weren't supposed to be there. They weren't supposed to follow her. The stunt at Camelot had been a tease – a vindicating taste of victory before she took her revenge. She'd planned it carefully as a farewell to the future she sought to destroy, but now, she wished she hadn't done it at all.

Emrys, she'd learned, and refused to call him by his _other_ name, the name that brought of up memories of smiles and better times, would _always_ put himself between her and her goals. Her victory would _always_ come too late, never coming to fruition before Emrys could make a mess of things. Over the decades, she'd learned to despise him for it. And now, there were _two_ of him roaming about.

She bit back another curse and steadied herself, turning from the window with her jaw held high. Still, she told herself, it was not over. He was out of his element. He was confused and in another world. He would be badly injured, if her spell had worked even halfway well. And, living in a time with Uther Pendragon once more, he'd have to hide his magic to avoid hurting them. She no longer held such qualms about her powers.

And besides it all, there was one weapon she could always use against him. _Two sides of the same coin_, or so the druids said. Emrys and the Once and Future King. Merlin and Arthur. They were inseparable and indispensable to one another. They were friends, comrades, _brothers_. A bond like that could be twisted painfully, Morgana knew, and she planned to use it to the best of her advantage.

So long as the prophecies were true (and they always were) Morgana could hold out hope for her war against Emrys. For she knew, no matter his power or his determination, there would _always_ be a spot for injury that would bring him to his knees.

Its name was Arthur Pendragon.

* * *

><p>"What do you <em>mean, <em>you _can't use your magic_."

"What do you think, Arthur?" Merlin snapped. Arthur scoffed.

"But… You're _Merlin_."

"Thank you, I'd gotten that bit, _Sire_. _Leot_," Merlin tried again, and nothing happened. He growled to himself, frustrated. He couldn't even _feel_ his magic, now that he was looking for it. It just… wasn't there. As if it were hiding. He felt lightheaded.

"Merlin, I know this is… bad, and all, but… I still can't see anything."

"Apparently, I can't help. Sorry. And I don't think I could find you any flint, either. I don't trust myself to standing yet."

"No, don't bother. Only… Merlin?"

"What?"

"…Please _don't freak out_." Arthur swallowed, and wondered if the Younger Merlin were listening. Out loud, he said, "Either of you." He could almost sense Merlin freeze his movements in the dark.

"What?" He asked, and Arthur could imagine what his face would look like. "Arthur, you said he was asleep!"

"Yeah, sorry."

"Arthur!"

"What? You think I was the only one you woke up? Speaking of which, you'll wake Gaius if you're not careful."

"Arthur, why didn't you _tell_ _me_?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't want to have to do this, but unless you want to stay in pain the rest of the night and _don't_ want me to give you poison by mistake, I need light."

Merlin sighed. It was quiet.

"Merlin," Arthur prompted after a moment, "please."

"What do you want me to say, prat?" The warlock retorted. Arthur rebounded,

"No, not you, idiot. The other one." He paused and added, in a more civil tone, "Merlin, please. I need help."

Silence. Older Merlin was squinting, trying to make his eyes adjust to the darkness and looking towards where he knew his old room would be. It was so much at once, but something about the situation appealed to a side of Merlin that would remain forever curious – even about things so strange as this. Nevertheless, it appeared his younger self was still too unnerved to show himself. The Older Merlin sighed.

"It's alright," He refused to use his own name in reference to another person, "It's… weird. And I know it's all Arthur's fault-"

"Hey!"

"-and I know you probably already knew that. But please… My head is feeling in _quite_ a bad way."

Slowly, quietly, the door to Merlin's room opened. It squeaked against its hinges and if he didn't look right at the door, Merlin could make out an surreally familiar silhouette, one he'd only ever seen in the mirror.

"Uhm," the one syllable sent shivers up Merlin's spine. It was uncanny to hear your own voice using words you hadn't given it. "What do you need?" Merlin asked nervously.

"Feverfew tincture," The Other Merlin replied.

"Oh, now that's just _weird_," They heard Arthur say.

"What?" and at the sound of themselves replying in unison, they both understood.

"Good lord…" Arthur's voice came over from the dark shadow by the medicine cabinet, "that… that's… Just… stay where you are, alright? I can't keep track of both of you if you switch places. Your voices are too similar." Which, to be honest, they weren't exactly. There was a certain distinction of timbre, of confidence vs. nervousness, of age vs. inexperience. Still, they were both _Merlin's _voice. In the dark and confusion, it was hard for Arthur to concentrate on distinguishing them.

"Right," It was the Older Merlin who spoke, "As if I could move if I wanted to. Help the Prat, would you?" He directed the last words at his younger counterpart, and Merlin could hear rather than see the younger man nod and begin moving towards Arthur.

"_Oomph." _Arthur.

"Sorry," Young Merlin apologized.

"You can _see_ in here?"

"No, but I know my way around. They're right… here." They could all hear the jingling of glass as Merlin rifled through the bottles.

"Why not just use a light?"

There was a pause. "Well, you said it might not be a good idea," Young Merlin explained. "Said it might be a bit of a… a shock."

"It's alright," Older Merlin told them both. "I think I can handle it. I'll have to, eventually. Go ahead, Merlin."

Hesitantly, Merlin raised his hand. "_Leot_."

They all squinted against the sudden light, no one more than the Older Merlin, whose eyes had been covered in sleep for days. He sensed someone in front of him.

"Here," The word was short and awkward. He looked up, and did a double take.

It was _him_. But not. He was young – _very_ young. Like a waterfall, flashbacks and memories and stories and faces washed over Merlin's consciousness in a noisy blur, and he didn't realize he'd been staring at his younger self until Arthur was at his side, looking worriedly at his face with his hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Merlin? You going to be alright, Merlin?"

"What?" Merlin shook himself. "Yeah. Yeah. Course." He blinked and glanced up at… at _himself_ again. "Longtime no see," he couldn't help but say.

The younger man blushed, but stared back. "Here," He said again, holding up the small, squat bottle. The Older Merlin reached for it.

"Thanks, that should-" And he sucked in a sudden breath, his expression snapping into one of pure interest and surprise as he stared at the hand that gave him the medicine – _his_ hand. His _younger_ hand.

"Merlin?"

The younger Merlin tugged his hand from his Older grasp.

"Merlin, what is it?" Arthur looked between them. "You didn't touch, did you?" He was looking at the Younger Merlin. "You _know_ Gaius said that was dangerous."

"No, no, wait," It was the Older Merlin. He reached out again for his younger self and grabbed an arm. Unsatisfied, he went for his hand again. Young Merlin tolerated it with a startled expression.

"What are you doing?"

But the Older Merlin wasn't listening. He was taking deep breaths, long, refreshing gulps that made it look like he hadn't breathed proper, fresh air in months. He let his head fall back, his hand never letting go of Young Merlin's bare wrist.

"Oh, that's _so_ much better."

But it was strange for Young Merlin, and eventually the sorcerer tugged his wrist away. The rejuvenated expression slowly melted from Merlin's face.

"I'm sorry," He told them, mostly his younger self. "I didn't mean to… That is… I hope I didn't startle you. It just… My magic. Your magic. _Our _magic. I didn't realize how much I'd lost touch with it. It's a breath of fresh air."

"You've got your magic back?" Arthur asked.

"No. But _he_ has it." Merlin pointed to his younger self.

"Me?" Young Merlin wondered if he should be feeling guilty. The Older Merlin shrugged.

"Well, not _my_ magic. Well. _Mine_ inasmuch as I'd have _yours,_ seeing as we're the same person. Well, technically, _I _am _you_, anyway. There's no real way _you _could be _me,_ at least, not yet. It's a funny little problem with linear time, laws of causality and all that…"

"_Mer_lin_…"_

"Right." Merlin glanced at Arthur. "Sorry. I don't have magic. But, I _think_… I think _his_ magic," He pointed to the other Merlin, "is responding to _me_ because it thinks I'm _him_."

"Which… you are." Merlin said.

"Which I am," his older self echoed, and glanced between Young Merlin and Arthur. "In a manner of speaking."

"Right," Arthur didn't sound like he completely understood, "but why did you react like that?"

Merlin was frowning with his brows in a squiggle, looking at he always did when trying to work out a problem. "When we touched, it was as if… my magic jumped across to me."

"I didn't feel anything," Younger Merlin put in.

"No, it's like… when we touch, because we're the same person, we become a magical extension of one another." He poked his younger self's hand again for sake of experiment, and couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped him. "I must say, it's quite refreshing to feel it again." He glanced up at himself. "Sorry."

Younger Merlin didn't look as uncomfortable as before, now that he was beginning to understand. "What happened to _your_ magic, anyway?" He crossed his arms and mirrored his own thoughtful expression. The Older Merlin winced.

"When we followed Morgana here, she was travelling alongside us, somehow. She saw we were there, and started to cast a spell at Arthur. I didn't have time to think up the counterspell. I kind of just… tossed myself at it."

"You_ what?"_ Arthur sounded indignant.

Merlin sighed. "Not bodily, mind you. My magic. Like a…" He shrugged as he tried to think of an analogy. "Big… magic… blanket. Not really a proper shield, though, so I'm afraid my magic took quite a blow. It might take a bit before it's back to strength."

"Hence your whole _lying-unconscious-for-three-days-being-absolutely-no-help-to-anyone-whatsoever_ sabbatical, I assume."

Merlin turned an irritated eye on Arthur. "It's not like I had a choice," he said, and Arthur rolled his eyes. As they bickered, Younger Merlin was looking over to Gaius, who slept on.

"D'you think we should wake him?" He asked, his fingers absently petting the ball of light in his palm. The Older Merlin sighed.

"It might be for the best. None of us are going back to sleep, and if he wakes up and sees me chatting away with you no mind to him, I'm sure it'll give him a heart attack."

"I thought he'd have woken by now," Arthur commented. Older Merlin snorted.

"If there's one thing I've learned from Gaius, it's that physicians can sleep through almost anything if they need to." His tone softened. "He's probably tired. Been working far too hard over me, I've no doubt. You should wake him," He told his younger self.

Merlin nodded and left his ball of light to float in the air as he went to his mentor and shook the physician's shoulder gently. A few moments later, Gaius sat up slowly, and then, after a whispered explanation, more quickly to look at the Older Merlin, who was sitting up on his cot.

Slightly unsure of himself, Gaius stood and walked over to them, eyeing Merlin's older counterpart with slight reservation. The older Merlin smiled up at him.

"Gaius," He greeted. Gaius nodded.

"Merlin." He glanced the man up and down. "I admit, this is a bit extravagant, even for you."

Merlin laughed and nodded. "Even for me." He glanced at his younger self. "Or _us_, I suppose I should say." Beside Arthur, the Younger Merlin fidgeted. Older Merlin sighed and resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose, where his sinuses were beginning to ache.

He hadn't had much experience with it so far, but Merlin felt he'd been awake long enough to conclude:

Time travel was _weird_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** And another burst of inspiration, it seems! I'm over halfway done with the next chapter. Expect it soon!


	11. So He's Awake

"You asked me to come?"

"Yes. It seems that our… _problem_ just got bigger."

"What?" She was alarmed. "How? Why?"

"_Why_, I can't tell you. _How_: the other one has woken up. Funny," She spat, resisting the urge to lean forward, "I thought he was going to _die?_"

"I-I was… he _should have_, I tried, but Merlin-"

"Damn him!" She screeched, "That _meddler_ ruins everything! Will I _never_ be rid of him?"

"I will try again, milady, but I will need to get closer-"

"No. We're not going to kill Merlin."

"…I'm sorry?"

"Not like that. It won't work, now. We'll have to get at him a different way."

"How?"

She smirked. "You shall see soon enough. But do not worry yourself with this one. I will take care of it myself. In the meantime, keep searching for the records. I _need_ them if I… if _we_ are to continue on as planned."

"Yes, milady. Only…"

"What?" She snapped.

"If I find them, the records. Will you teach me, like you promised? Will you help me?"

Her face softened, and she smiled. "Of course, I have not forgotten. I promise. But first, I need to finish my work in Camelot. You understand."

"Yes, milady."

* * *

><p>Gaius was giving the Older Merlin a once-over examination, his discomfort with the situation overruled by his medical protocol. "How do you feel?" he asked the man.<p>

"I can't feel my magic too well, and can't use it, which we just discovered the hard way. My head hurts. Merlin here's gotten me a tincture for it." He nodded thanks at his younger self, and Gaius nodded as well.

"Good. Good. Well, you're awake, might as well get some food in you. Merlin?" He looked to his ward, and the boy nodded and left for the pantry. "I'll start preparing some more potion for you – if it's worked so far, you'll be needing more in the morning." Merlin wasn't entirely sure what Gaius was talking about, but assumed he'd been given some kind of medication while he was asleep. Gaius turned to Arthur. "Arthur, you watched when I was making it yesterday – could you give me some help?" After the king agreed, the two left to the back of the room where Gaius kept his ingredients.

Young Merlin returned shortly with a plate of bread and hastily re-heated stew. His older self took the tray and ate appreciatively. He hadn't felt hungry before, but the moment the aroma of the broth hit his nose, his stomach felt unbearably empty. "This potion Gaius is making, I assume he gave it to me while I was asleep," He asked himself around bites of bread, "what is it?"

"An elixir made to treat the lapses," Merlin explained as he poured a glass of water.

"The lapses?" His older self looked up at him in surprise.

"Yes. Gaius tells me it's like a sickness, only it targets-"

"The magic, yes, I know," Older Merlin told him, "I've seen it happen before. Only… how did Gaius come up with it?" He looked over to where the physician was grinding herbs in a pestle and directing Arthur to which ingredients he needed.

"You weren't waking up, and Gaius couldn't figure out why. It was actually Arthur who suggested that it might be because your magic had been hurt in some way."

Merlin stopped and stared midbite. "_Really?_" He swallowed and looked over at Arthur, an almost fatherly pride gleaming in his eye. "Well, what do you know," He said in an aside to his younger self, "The Clot Pole gets clever." Younger Merlin couldn't help but laugh, and his older self turned back to look at him. "Just goes to show you, even the most idiomatic royal imbeciles will surprise you once in a while. I'm glad he figured it out." He began eating again.

Younger Merlin couldn't help but watch his older counterpart with an interested smile on his face. By the look of him, he'd expected his future self to be a completely different person than who he was now – and in many ways, he was. But there was something there, something that Merlin knew was still _him_. Him, but _more_.

"Does he really get that clever?" Merlin asked, and his older self looked up at him. "I mean, the one I'm stuck with is still pretty much an idiot."

Merlin smiled at him. "Well, he definitely has his moments. And don't sell him short just yet," He wagged a chastising crust of bread at his younger self, "He's a growing boy. One day he might just decide to think and act like a man. You'll just have to endure him until that day comes." Merlin winked at him, and although he'd said it in encouragement, the younger Merlin frowned.

"Is… Is it worth it?" He asked quietly. Older Merlin sensed the shift in mood immediately, and looked up to see his younger counterpart watching him with a worried but hopeful expression. Merlin swallowed and set his half-eaten meal aside and looked up to the younger man in front of him. It was strange to give advice to yourself, but beyond the face that was his and a mind that he still understood like no other, Merlin could see someone that _wasn't_ him – not anymore. He could see a scared, tired boy with far too many questions left unanswered. He remembered what that felt like. He couldn't _not_ answer.

"Yes," He told him plainly. "And I know that even as I say that, it doesn't make you feel any better. Nothing will, until you see it for yourself." He smiled bittersweetly, and glanced back over to make sure that Arthur and Gaius couldn't hear them before he turned back to his younger self. He peered at him with perceptive eyes for a moment, before he continued in a quiet tone. "You want to ask me how it happens," he said, and nodded his head sideways towards Arthur, "How he finds out. What he does." Although Younger Merlin said nothing in reply, his expression said it all. "I can't tell you, and you probably guessed that. But I can tell you, with certainty, it _is_ worth it." His voice resonated with a wisdom and a sincerity that would leave the Younger Merlin wondering how the sound would develop in his own voice one day, "No matter what happens, no matter if it's a short time or a long time, a hard time or a happy time, you have to know Merlin, it _will_ be worth it. All of it. But I'm not going to spoil it for you – for _myself_, rather." He looked his younger self in the eye, and smiled with a knowledge that sparkled. "Believe me, you won't want to miss it for the world."

Younger Merlin watched him with an open expression of wonder, and even as he opened his mouth to ask a second question, Gaius interrupted them.

"Here we are," He said, holding up a glass bottle filled with a dark, maroon colored liquid. At the sight of it, the Older Merlin grimaced.

"That's going to taste vile, isn't it?"

"Well," Gaius said, peering up at the mixture against Merlin's conjured light, "I find that, in medicine, the viler it tastes, the better it will work. You did eat something, didn't you? It will help you keep it down."

Merlin twitched an eyebrow in irritation. He'd taken the potion in the past; he knew exactly what to expect where taste and nausea was concerned. "At least there's that. Still – Gaius, I had a thought just now, you may want to hear it."

"Yes?" Gaius looked at him from under his permanently raised eyebrow.

"Merlin tells me that you've been giving me the potion for the lapses," he gestured to the vial that Gaius held, "And while I'm thankful for it, I don't think that _that_ is what woke me up." Both Gaius and Younger Merlin turned to look at him.

"Well what did, then?" Gaius asked.

"_Him_." Merlin pointed at himself. Younger Merlin mimicked the motion.

"Me?" He asked.

"Your _magic_, anyway. Tell me, did you happen to touch me – even brush my arm or something, before I woke up?"

Gaius spoke up first. "No, I told him it was too dangerous, that it could possible mess up-"

"Well…" Young Merlin twisted his hands and looked guilty.

"_Merlin!_"

"I'm sorry!" Young Merlin turned defensively toward his mentor. "I had to! What else was I supposed to do? I had to make sure he was alright, after…" He hesitated as he realized that his other self didn't yet know that he'd nearly been poisoned. "After Morgana was here, and…"

"Wait, Morgana?" His older self looked alarmed. He swallowed. "No. Nevermind. You can tell me later. What matters is," he looked back up at them after steading himself, "_I_ haven't got any magic to spare at the moment, but _he_ does. And when we touch, it appears, we can share that magic."

"The magic that keeps you alive," Gaius put in.

"The magic that, because it's injured, kept me asleep," Merlin said.

"But because _my_ magic is fine…" Young Merlin said,

"Exactly." Merlin finished for them. When you touched me, Merlin, you unwittingly gave me a bit of your magic, enough to wake me." He stopped and took a deep breath. When he exhaled, his expression was pained. "However, I'm afraid it won't last much longer. I'm bound to fall over again sooner rather than later." He wobbled a bit on his cot. Younger Merlin immediately stepped forward and grabbed the older man's arm. Merlin stopped swaying, and smiled at him. "Thanks. Though I think that, the more I stay awake, the more it'll take to keep me going. We need to think of a more permanent solution."

There was a pause while they thought. Eventually, Gaius said, "Are you saying that you _aren't_ suffering from the lapses?" He asked.

"No, I am," Merlin said, "But it's… complicated. That potion won't do me much good. Most sorcerers would be able to get out and about and slowly exercise their magic until its healthy again. I can't exactly get out and about if I can't even stand up for my magic being gone. The potion itself _will_ help – if I can somehow manage to stay awake long enough to let it."

"I could enchant it," Younger Merlin said. All eyes turned to him. He looked between his mentor and his older self. "I mean, it'd be a bit impractical if I'd go around having to grab his arm so he doesn't faint ever other second," He explained, "but if I could… _infuse_ the potion with some magic, my magic, maybe it'd help. Give a bit of a boost that would make it more compatible with my – _your_ magic."

Merlin sat back, a clear expression on his face. "Why didn't I think of that?" He asked the air. Gaius chuckled.

"You just did. Good thinking, Merlin. Arthur? Are you still getting more ingredients together? We'll need more of that elixir as soon as we can." He turned back to Older Merlin. "You'll still need to drink that, of course," he pointed to the bottle, "after Merlin enchants it. And I need to start making more." He sighed heavily. "I should tell you, Merlin, Uther has been stopping by every so often to see if you're awake. When he finds out you are, he'll want to talk with you about what happened, how you got here."

Merlin paled. He'd already done the math in his head; he knew they were in Uther's reign. But he had tried not to think of it. No such luck, it seemed. He wondered if the Younger Arthur would come by, as well.

"Of course," He said tightly. Gaius went to help Arthur. Merlin picked up the vial of elixir and handed it to himself. "Now. After you enchant this concoction that I only _wish_ was tasteless, you can tell me about what, exactly, Morgana was up to."

Merlin nodded. "Right. We're not entirely sure, mind you."

"I still want to hear it. I might have an idea or two." He blinked against a sudden sense of vertigo. "But the potion first."

Merlin glanced down at it. "How do I go about enchanting it?"

Merlin thought for a moment. "I think I might know the trick. Repeat after me. _Begíete,"_

"_Begíete,"_

"_Rice afoles drýcræft,"_

"_R__ice afoles drýcræft,"_

"You'll want to hold the bottle while you're doing this. And careful on the next pronunciation – it's a bit trickier than what you're used to. _Bearme bræcdrenc,"_

"_Bearme bræcdrenc,"_

"_Ágíeme æfne ágoest,"_

"_Ágíeme æfne ágoest…"_

* * *

><p>Arthur wasn't sure what to do.<p>

It was mid-morning, and he was lying in bed, awake. He hadn't had breakfast yet. Usually, he'd be complaining, but there was no one to complain _to_.

Merlin hadn't shown up for work that morning, something that usually had the Prince riled up in a fit and ranting about useless servants who didn't know what 'morning' meant. But that particular morning, nothing about life felt quite 'normal'. He'd tried it for a few days, to completely forget about the fact that there was another version of himself hiding in Camelot under Gaius' care, even more so the fact that _Merlin_ was probably taking care of said other self. However hard he tried to ignore it, the reality of the situation lingered like an annoying itch at the back of Arthur's mind. He'd been avoiding Gaius' chambers altogether ever since he walked in and saw himself – his _older_ self – in the middle of a panic attack.

Arthur wasn't sure what to think about it. It was magic, obviously. But there was no sorcerer. It was just him and Merlin… _from the future_. He hadn't believed it at first, the whole time travel idea, but it seemed more and more that there was no other explanation. Also, while Merlin knew of the Prince's discomfort and tried his hardest not to mention the newcomers in everyday conversation, inevitably, it came up, and when it did, Merlin spoke of the _Other_ Arthur, and he did so as if it were actually Arthur. Arthur couldn't help but be hurt by it. Who was Merlin to compare him to this new, strange man? He refused to think of him as _him_. He couldn't be. The notion was ridiculous. He was Arthur. And there couldn't be _two_ of him.

Arthur sighed and tried once more not to think about it. The concept made his head hurt, but Arthur couldn't deny that the notion of meeting himself from the future scared him. What kind of man would he been in fifteen years? What kind if _king?_ He would have so many questions, ones that he wasn't sure he wanted the answers to. And yet… something deep in gut told him that he should _do_ something about it. He frowned and wondered if the churning in his stomach was from nerves or because was still hungry.

He should go fetch Merlin. He normally world, cursing and yelling as he went, but he'd been avoiding Gaius' rooms for knowledge of who was there, now.

But damnit, he was _hungry_.

Not that Merlin would care.

Still.

Sighing, Arthur dragged himself out of bed and pulled a shirt on. Scowling, he made his way down through the castle, putting on a stiff face and trying to psyche himself up for whatever he might find in Gaius' chambers when he got there. But before he could get there, he rather literally ran into Guinevere.

"Arthur!" She exclaimed, and he apologized, helping her up from where she'd fall down.

"Gwen, is something wrong?" He asked when he saw her startled expression.

"Haven't you heard?" When he shook his head, she told him: "Merlin, his lookalike, the _Older Merlin -_ he's woken up."


	12. More than Merlin

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait! I wasn't quite sure what to do with this chapter. I'm having trouble with the pacing of this story – what to stick in where and when. I've most of the plot lined out, but timing is still in the works. Bear with me, and let me know if the pace is too fast or too slow!

* * *

><p>Gwen had only been passing by when she'd heard it. Carrying a basket of clean laundry up to Morgana's suites, she had to pass briefly by Gaius' chambers on her way, and when she did, she heard something that made her stop. Screaming. As she drew nearer, she could hear words in between the screams, and other voices as well.<p>

"Oh grow a backbone, Merlin," Arthur's voice. He sounded far too concerned to be teasing.

"Take it slowly. Sleeping for that long has hardly been good on your muscles." Gaius.

Wait, sleeping? Merlin? Gwen's eyes widened. She set down her basket. Did that mean that…? She opened the door to another pained groan and came into a scene that made her gasp. Gaius and the Older Arthur stood by a very tired-looking Older Merlin, who was attempting to stand up with great difficulty. He favored his right leg, and after he tried to put weight on it, fell back down to his cot despite Gaius and Arthur's support. He slammed his palm on the edge of the bed in frustration.

"_Damn_ my leg!" He shouted.

Off to one side of the room, looking on with a pained expression and a hand to his mouth was the Young Merlin. His eyes were the first to wander over to the doorway. "Gwen!"

All eyes whipped to her, and she could see the Older Merlin pale when he saw her. He stared, and she couldn't help but to stare back.

"I… I… I was just," She looked at the other faces in the room, "I was walking past, when I heard… I'm sorry, I'll be going," She said, blushing violently and turning back toward the door.

"No, Gwen," And it was mostly because it was Older Merlin who called her that she turned back around. He sighed heavily from exhaustion but tried to smile nonetheless. "It's alright, I'm sorry." He nodded at her, mustering a friendly grin. "It's good to see you, albeit a bit – uh" he grimaced and bent over his leg as a muscle cramped up. "Sorry," he said.

"Merlin is right, Guinevere," Gaius said, "please stay. I may need your help, actually."

"What do you need?" She asked, doing her best not to look too long or often at the strange, older Merlin sitting only a few feet away.

"There's some elixirs in the back room, in a cupboard, made to relieve muscle cramps. They'll be in clear bottles, small, round – Merlin, show her to them, will you? And start put the pot on for tea as well." The two young people nodded and headed off to follow instructions. On his cot, Merlin had a palm to his forehead, and was trying not to fall against Arthur, who stood nearby.

"Arthur," He asked, glancing slowly around, "where's my staff?"

"Um," The king knew how this would turn out. "Merlin, you didn't exactly, er, have it with you when we came here."

"_What?"_

"…It's not here, Merlin."

Merlin looked up at him, truly hurt. "W-what? My staff? It's –it's _not here?"_

Arthur tried to look sympathetic, but it came out wrong. "I'm afraid not. I'm sorry, Merlin."

Merlin looked like he'd just lost a loyal pet, or been told that his best friend couldn't make it for holiday, or the yearly magic festival had been cancelled. "Well what am I supposed to do?" He asked Arthur, genuinely concerned.

"We can find you a substitute. You know," Arthur tried to sound optimistic, "until yours turns up."

Merlin sighed, because he knew that would never happen. Gaius tried to help, "I know they keep plenty of staffs in the armory. They're technically for fighting, but they work fine for walking as well."

"Do you want me to go and fetch one?" Young Merlin came back into the room, bearing an elixir.

"No, I don't want you leaving, in case…" He paused, remembering Gwen. "He'll need to keep his strength up," Gaius nodded at Older Merlin, his voice quieter, "best if you don't go. Guinevere?"

"Yes?" Gwen stepped out from the kitchen area where she'd been brewing tea.

"Do you think you could fetch a quarterstaff from the armory?"

She frowned uncertainly. "Why?"

"Merlin's leg. He'll need it to walk."

She looked at Older Merlin, suddenly concerned. "What's happened to his leg?"

Arthur sighed. "It's a very long story, Gwen. Please help? I'd go, but, well…"

"Yes," She nodded. "Of course. But I was on my way to Morgana's rooms, to drop off her laundry,"

"That's fine," Older Merlin waved his hand dismissively. "No rush. Not like I'll be going anywhere." Then he added in a hiss, "blasted leg."

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Gwen promised, and left the physicians chambers. Her head was reeling as she walked up to Morgana's rooms and began to put away her wardrobe.

Merlin. _Old _Merlin. Well, Gwen supposed, Old_er_. She shook herself. It was all so strange. Seeing Older Arthur was strange enough, but somehow, she'd always imagined that maturity would fit well on Arthur, in good time. The beard, the confidence, the _regality_, it all fit. Even the humility seemed to fit in well with his character, somehow, even if it was unexpected. But _Merlin_? She'd only glimpsed his older self for a few minutes, but she could sense that he was much changed from the Merlin she knew. Not in a bad way, but more… well, _more_. It was as if Gwen had been looking at a portrait of Merlin all her life and was only just turning around to meet the actual person. They were good representations of each other, true to likeness and proportion, but there was simply no comparing the painting to the real thing. It was strange. This new Merlin was so Merlin that she'd have known him if she only saw him for a few seconds, but at the same time, he was something so different that it made Gwen frown in concentration. What could happen to a man like Merlin in fifteen years that would change him so much?

She didn't realize she'd been frowning so deeply until she was making her way down to the armory and her thoughts distracted her to the point of quite literally running into Arthur.

"Arthur!" She said, gasping. She hadn't even heard him turn the corner. She blushed as he helped her to her feet, and he looked like he might apologize when he saw her expression and frowned.

"Gwen, is something wrong?"

"Haven't you heard?" She asked, genuinely confused. It'd appeared earlier that Merlin had been up for quite a while – she'd have figured that someone would have told Arthur by now. "Merlin, his lookalike, the _Older Merlin _– he's woken up."

Suddenly Arthur became very, very pale. "When?"

Gwen shook her head. "I'm not sure. I walked in a little while ago, and he was awake."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You've _seen_ him?"

"Yes."

"Is he… alright?"

Gwen shrugged. "He seemed tired… A bit hurting, maybe. Arthur, are you alright?" His face was twitching with several conflicted feelings.

"We need to tell my father. Is Merlin – _our_ Merlin – is he there too?"

"Yes."

"Right…" Arthur sighed to himself. When he didn't speak again, Gwen carefully swerved around him.

"Excuse me, Sire…"

"Where are you going?" He asked, noting that she was heading in the opposite direction of Gaius' chambers.

"The armory."

"What on earth for?"

"A quarterstaff," She explained. "Something's happened to Merlin's-" She sighed. They would need to think up different names for the two. "That is, the _Older_ Merlin's leg. Gaius says he'll need a walking stick."

Arthur was frowning. "But I thought Gaius said he wasn't injured."

Gwen shrugged at him. "I'm just trying to help." She turned to leave. Arthur went after her.

"Here, let me go with you. The guards might not let you in. I'll make sure you get a good staff."

She nodded her thanks and they walked quickly together towards the armory.

Once they'd procured a suitable staff (Arthur was, thankfully, able to pick one that he knew would suit Merlin's height) they made their way back to Gaius' chambers. As Arthur reached the door, his hand stopped on the handle.

"Arthur?" Gwen asked at his hesitation. Arthur stared at the door, then turned around to her, an apprehensive expression on his face. "Is… is _my_ older self in there?"

She looked sheepish. "Um. Yes. When I was here, anyway."

Arthur nodded. "And Merlin, he… _both _of them are here?" Gwen nodded. After a still pause, Gwen said kindly,

"Arthur, you don't have to go in if you don't want. I'll take the staff and-"

"No, no. It's fine." Arthur heaved a large breath to steady himself. "I'll have to talk to both of them eventually." And as he opened the latch she thought she could hear him say, "_Damn I hope we figure this out soon_,"

At the sound of the door, Gaius turned. "Ah, Guinevere, good, you've – Arthur!" As the Prince walked fully into the room, all eyes darted to him. He froze.

"Arthur helped me get into the armory," Gwen said by way of explanation, "he got one that should fit Merlin's height." She glanced at the Prince, who was staring at Older Merlin and Arthur with extreme discomfort. His older counterpart looked only slightly less uncomfortable, but Older Merlin was studying him with a certain _look _in his eye – recognition, curiosity, and… _fondness_. Arthur fidgeted. It made him feel uncomfortable. He only moved his eyes when Gwen went to tug the quarterstaff from his grasp. "Here you are," She extended the staff to Older Merlin, and he took it gratefully.

Carefully, with Older Arthur and Gaius going to his aid, Merlin stood up, leaning heavily on his new walking stick, and studied its make. It was perhaps the plainest quarterstaff that Camelot's armory had to offer, a strong, sturdy cut of maple. There were long, thick divots cut into the sides of the wood, which provided partially blunted angles in the wood that would work well in combat to cut at an opponent – for Merlin's purposes, they provided decent hand grips. He found a comfortable spot to hold onto, and took a hesitant step forward. He managed two or three until he had to sit back down. He heaved a sigh. "Thank you, Gwen, and Arthur," He let his eyes flick up to the prince. "This will work nicely." He laid the staff across his lap and ran his hand along it, studying it.

Prince Arthur's subconscious saw to it that he mumbled 'you're welcome' in reply, but his conscious thought was spent on studying this _Older_ Merlin that sat in front of him. Hearing him, looking at him, watching him… It all felt so _wrong_. It made Arthur uncomfortable. This wasn't Merlin. This wasn't his bumbling, smiling servant. This wasn't the lovable idiot he knew. This was someone else entirely, who'd stolen Merlin's face, and his voice, and his mannerisms, and stuck them into a bearded, confident, mature, and entirely to _wise_ looking man who dared to call himself by the same name. He couldn't be Merlin. He was far too… _much_ to be Merlin. Merlin was _Merlin_, nothing more. But this man was much, _much_ more. And Arthur wasn't sure he liked that at all.

"I know it's all very weird," The Strange Merlin said, "but I won't bite, you know." When Arthur met his eyes, they sparked with a smile. "You don't have to look at me like I will. Prat," He tagged on for recognition's sake, but if anything, it seemed to make Arthur's discomfort grow.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Right, um," He said, mostly in reply to the idea that it was 'all very weird.' _That_ was the understatement of the century. "How long…" He cleared his throat again, awkwardly, "how long have you been awake?"

"Oh, a while. Not sure exactly. Arthur?"

Older Arthur, who also looked rather uncomfortable, but infinitely less so that his younger self, answered, "He woke up sometime after midnight last night. We've been spending the rest of that time trying to get him patched up enough to stay conscious for more than a few minutes at a time."

"Hey!" Older Merlin looked offended. Younger Merlin was hiding a smile that the Prince didn't understand. He was watching the exchange with a stiff back. A chill had run up his spine when he heard his older self speak – it was _his voice_. But _not._ The entire situation was making him extremely uneasy, and he wanted nothing more than to draw his sword, if only to feel safer against a situation that was so obviously, blatantly _magic_.

"Has… does my father know?" He asked. The room seemed to sober. It was Gaius who answered.

"Merlin is still in a fragile state, Sire. When your father finds out that he is conscious, he will want to speak with him straightaway. I mean no disrespect, but I think it may be wise to delay telling Uther until Merlin is strong enough to face him and the council's questioning."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. I trust you, of course," He told Gaius, and his eyes darted around the room and he couldn't help it when he spent a little longer than need be comparing the facial features of the Younger and Older Merlins. He shook himself. "I… I ought to be going." He dismissed himself quickly, and after a glance or two back, a concerned-looking Guinevere followed him. After they left, the Older Arthur let out a huge breath, and ran a hand over his face.

"You alright, Arthur?" Merlin looked past his shoulder at him.

"It's weird, alright," He said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Gods, I forgot what I was like back then – back now? Oh, blast it all." Merlin smiled sympathetically, but said nothing. Arthur glanced over at his longtime friend, who was lounging on his cot comfortably, only a metre or so away from his younger self. Neither of them seemed to bear any signs of overt discomfort.

"And how is it that _you two_ can get on so well? Doesn't it seem little too _mad?_"

The Merlins looked at each other, and to Arthur's further disconcertment, shrugged simultaneously.

"After a while, you get used to weird magic," Older Merlin explained, "You learn to be flexible. Though I will say, this has got to be one of the stranger surprises Magic has ever handed me,"

Younger Merlin snorted. "It'd certainly do me," He said.

"It has," His older self replied, and the two grinned identically. Arthur looked between the two of them, a highly disturbed look on his face, and he shook himself and turned toward Merlin's bedroom.

"I'm going to lie down. I've already lost enough sleep to you as it is, idiot."

"Aw, you lost sleep over me? I didn't know you cared." Older Merlin smiled cheekishly at him.

"Goodnight, Merlin," Arthur said without looking back.

"Goodmorning, perhaps." The door shut behind the king. "Don't worry Arthur, I'll try to live through the night – er – _morning_ without your nannying."

"_Shut up, Merlin_," Arthur's voice floated back. Merlin smiled and, using what little magic he could muster under his own power, said a spell that would darken the bedroom for Arthur's comfort. Behind him, Younger Merlin sniffed and moved toward the door.

"I should probably go and see if Arthur needs anything. Do you need me to…?" He glanced back at his older self, but the man gave a placating gesture. He started to speak, but a yawn broke in too soon. Gaius answered for him.

"No need, Merlin. And thank Guinevere for me, if you get the chance." Merlin nodded, and left. Alone in the room, Gaius turned toward the older version of his ward. "You need to sleep. I can't withhold information from Uther very long until he finds out, and if he does, he won't be happy about it. You need to be ready to face the council soon. Merlin sighed and nodded. He lay down and pulled a blanket over himself.

"Thank you, Gaius," He said, and it was a strangely pleasant sensation for the physician to see this older man act just like the boy he regarded as his own son. He closed the shutters on the window to darken the room, and went quietly over to his desk and lit a candle. Alone with sleeping company of men of confidence, Gaius could study forbidden texts without fear.

_Time travel_… He scanned old pages with studious curiosity, hoping against hope that somewhere close, the answers he sought lay buried in paper and ink.

* * *

><p>Sure enough, by the time Older Merlin woke up again, late that evening, Uther had heard that he was awake and wanted to speak with him immediately. Despite Gaius' protests of him being still too weak to cope, the king was adamant. Gaius looked deeply apologetic when he told Merlin that the council would be waiting for his arrival that evening, past dark. With a great sigh, Merlin had agreed to go.<p>

Arthur helped his friend to walk around Gaius' chambers to stretch his underused legs and get acquainted with his new staff.

"I apologize in advance for whatever nonsense myself and my family give you tonight," The king said even as Merlin gripped hard on his arm, wincing. His leg was still sore and the bone painful. The warlock laughed despite it all.

"It does run in the family, doesn't it?" Neither of them were smiling. "I'll be fine."

"Just make sure you come back in one piece," Arthur told him.

"I'll be there to make sure of it," Gaius said, coming up to the two with a potion in his hand, one of the potions that Younger Merlin had enchanted earlier that day. "Drink this. I know it's foul, but it will help you recover more quickly." Merlin took it and downed it in one, wincing against the thick bitterness. He accepted the glass of water that Gaius held out with haste.

"How long do you think my father will keep him in there?" Arthur asked. He would not be able to attend the audience.

"I'm not sure. If it goes too long, I'll be sure to let him know," and from Gaius, it sounded almost like a threat. "Are you ready to go, Merlin?"

He sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be."

They walked to the throne room slowly, in silence. Gaius knew Merlin would have plenty to think about, trying to mentally prepare himself not only for the interrogation, but for the sight of people he hadn't seen in fifteen years. Merlin was limping heavily on his staff the whole way there, and the reduced speed gave him time to think. _Uther. Alive. Questioning him._ He would have to think carefully about his answers. The warlock looked mainly at the ground as they approached. When they were just outside the massive doors, Gaius stopped and turned to Merlin.

"I'll be right there, if you need me. I'm sorry about all this. The circumstances." He gave the man an encouraging smile. "You'll do fine, Merlin. Ready?"

Merlin closed his eyes and took a long breath, steading his nerves and mind. When he opened his eyes and straightened his spine, he appeared to be a different person. All of the confidence and presence he'd acquired in his years as Court Sorcerer suddenly shone through, his freshly-cleaned robes and trimmed black beard making him look every inch a nobleman. Seeing him simultaneously filled Gaius with profound pride and growing uneasiness for the moments to come. Deliberately, Merlin shifted his stance to hide his limp and gripped his staff more comfortably. He nodded. Gaius pushed open the doors, and they stepped inside.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Shameless _Sherlock_ quote is shameless. Hoped you enjoyed this chapter, despite the little that happened.


	13. The Interview

_Clack._

_Clack._

_Clack._

_Clack._

The sound of Merlin's staff hitting the ground was the only thing that broke the silence as they approached the front of the Great Hall, where the king, the prince, and their advisors were waiting. Gaius watched Merlin out of the corner of his eye as they walked together. To any onlookers, Merlin looked as though he didn't even need the staff – he was straight-backed, eyes forward and all confidence. Only Gaius could see how tensely he held his neck, how he was biting his lip against the pain, how it was his arm and his staff that held his bodyweight when his right leg took a step. The physician tried not to worry too much. They came to the place where a chair had been set out for Merlin, and Gaius waited while Merlin was seated before he moved away. The warlock betrayed no soreness as he sat and drew his staff across over his lap with practiced ease. He nodded at Gaius, and the physician moved away to sit near Uther at his spot at the head table.

There was a pause as things seemed to settle in the room. Arthur was sitting next to his father, jaw tense as he studied the Older Merlin. Morgana was staring holes into his head, and Merlin's heart was wrenching itself at every glance of her beautiful, unspoiled face. Uther's expression was intense and the tiniest bit unnerved. He whispered something to one of the councilmen, and the two had a brief, silent conversation with each other. Only Gaius kept a characteristic air as the interview began. Uther sat up and addressed Merlin for the first time.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Merlin Emrys."

The was a slight stir as the eerily familiar voice hit their ears. Uther paused for a moment before continuing, his voice accented with suspicion, "I was unaware that you had a surname."

"Did you ever ask?" Merlin retorted straight-faced, his eyes meeting the king's for the first time. It'd been nearly fifteen years since he'd seen that face, but even then, he'd never had the experience of seeing it so unnerved, so… _flustered_.

Uther was growing highly uncomfortable with the man that sat in front of him. His appearance was one thing; well-dressed, lean, imposing and confident in his movements despite what Uther had been told was a crippling disability in his leg. Now that he heard Merlin's voice, the effect was compounded. He was calm, casual, and something in his eyes leaked into his words, a hidden sense of command that Uther was used to possessing, not witnessing. It made him immediately dislike the newcomer. He squinted at the man.

"Am I to understand, Merlin _Emrys_, that you claim to be the very same Merlin who is currently manservant to my son, Prince Arthur Pendragon?"

"Well, not the _very_ same, I'd think," Merlin said, shrugging his head to one side. "A person does change in fifteen years. And I'm not his manservant anymore. But insomuch as _that _Merlin and myself are the same person, then, yes."

Uther glanced at Arthur, who did not return his gaze. He looked briefly at Gaius, then back at Merlin. "And how can there be two of the same person in the same place at the same time?"

"Time travel. I – and Arthur, who I believe you spoke with before at more _reasonable_ hours of the day – are from the future."

Uther blinked a few times, taken aback by Merlin's casual air and his underhanded jibe at Uther's decision to bring him in so late. It was strange, this man _looked_ so much like his son's manservant – but he was nowhere near stupid enough to bear comparison. Surely, he thought, this could not be the same person. But if it was… "And how, exactly, did this 'time travel' of which you speak occur to bring you and… and your _companion_ here to Camelot?" At the question, Merlin shrugged.

"Magic, of course." the words caused a stir among the council. Uther fidgeted. "I thought you'd already arrived at that, your Majesty."

"I was aware that the cause was likely sorcery," Uther gritted out, uncomfortable with the topic and this man's unnerving tone of voice. "What I want to know, however, is exactly _how_ magic played a part in this… incident. From your point of view."

Merlin nodded and drew up a long breath. He looked at the ceiling for a moment before he began to speak.

"As Arthur probably told you, there was an attack on Camelot. A sorceress. She hit us midday, out of the blue. There was no warning. We were in Great Hall when she attacked," Merlin glanced up around the very same room, so much older but somehow newer-looking when it wasn't lying in rubble, "but were forced to flee. Arthur's shoulder was knocked badly out of socket; he couldn't fight, and had twisted his ankle. I was attempting to get him safely to the keep when the sorceress intercepted us."

"This sorceress," Uther asked, leaning forward, "who is she?"

Merlin's eyes rested irresistibly on Morgana as he pondered the question. Her skin was so pale and unscarred, her eyes uncrazed, her hair beautifully brushed and curled. Even though Merlin knew that behind the façade she was already slipping, already turning into the witch that he remembered, in that moment he believed that she was truly Morgana again, no longer Morgan Le Fey. He didn't feel that he was lying when he said sadly, "You wouldn't know her, your majesty."

Uther looked disappointed. "I see. Carry on."

Merlin drew a deep breath and tore his eyes away from Morgana. "As I say, she intercepted us halfway to the keep. Arthur was in no condition to even _think_ about fighting, so I attempted to stall her as long as she could." Merlin frowned. "It was strange. She didn't attack us. She only spoke. I'm not sure of what all she said," which wasn't entirely true. He remembered what she'd _said_, he only didn't know what it _meant_. "Then she started to say a transportation spell, and I-"

"A _what_?"

Merlin looked slightly annoyed that Uther had interrupted. "A transportation spell," he said carefully. "Magic. She _is_ a sorceress."

It was Uther's turn to look irritated. "Yes, I gathered. But you seem to know what _kind_ of spell she used – how do you know so much about magic?" He looked pointedly suspicious. Gaius sent Merlin a worried look.

No one was expecting it when Merlin started laughing. It was just a light chuckle, and his smile was halfhearted, but it seemed out of place given the circumstances. He eventually looked back over to where the king was waiting for a response. "You know, I've always found it funny," he peered up at Uther, "For a king who hates magic so much as you, a king who rules a land that seems endlessly beset by magical attacks… you don't know _anything _about magic itself, do you?" He looked up at Uther and something in his gaze changed from amusement to a deep sadness that, perhaps fortunately, did not reach all the way across his face to where the king could see it. "How can you hate that which you do not understand?" Merlin asked seriously. "How do you expect to defeat an opponent whose movements you cannot predict?"

Uther was dumbstruck, and looked furious about it. Arthur's eyebrows were in his hairline, but Merlin could see past the surprise to where the cogs were beginning to spin in his golden-haired skull. The warlock's heart warmed. Past, present or future, there had always been something in Arthur that had led him through his destiny: thoughtfulness, buried deep beneath bravado and arrogance, that whispered of the man that Arthur would become. Merlin couldn't help it when he allowed a grin to cross his face. Gaius was watching him with obvious concern. Merlin wondered if he hadn't said too much, but the other half of him, the half that went by _Emrys_ wondered if he should care. He pressed on.

"I know about magic, yes. In all due respect, I know more about it than you probably ever will. But you needn't be so surprised - you have Gaius for that purpose now," he nodded at the physician. "Let's just say that, in the future, Arthur has _me_ fill that role." His eyes twinkled. "In a manner of speaking."

To which the Prince looked equal parts confused, intrigued, and disturbed. Somehow the comparison of _Gaius_ and _Merlin_ just didn't quite fit. Arthur could never see Merlin as such a wise, studious, mysterious individual as Gaius could be. And yet… the prince glanced the Older Merlin up and down. …here he was.

"I see," Uther broke through his thoughts with a curt reply, and Arthur looked down at the table, not wanting to see the anger in his father's face. "A… _transportation spell_, then. What happened after that?"

Merlin nodded as the king let him continue. "As I say, she began to say a transportation spell, to take herself away from Camelot. This particular sorceress has given us a fair bit of trouble in the past. I wasn't about to just let her get away, so I lunged forward to stop her." He raised his eyebrows, looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "This is where things begin to blur together, but if I recall correctly, Arthur must've thought that my idea was a bad one, because he grabbed my ankle in an attempt to stop me. I fell forward. As I did, I grabbed the edge of the sorceress' dress. After that…" He shrugged.

"Yes?"

"It's a blur. Literally. If I understand it correctly, we were drawn up into her transportation spell. That's how we ended up here."

The room fell into silence as the royals and the council absorbed what had been said. Uther leaned briefly over to Gaius to ask a question. The physician nodded and said something that Merlin couldn't hear, and when Uther looked back up, his face was troubled.

"You're saying that the sorceress was _trying_ to come here?"

Merlin's jaw was tight and it was few moments before he responded.

"I don't know where _or_ when she was attempting to go, your majesty. From what I understand, transportation spells are… fickle. Easily broken. Our interference may have thwarted her original plans."

"But you said you went _with_ her. Are you saying that this… this sorceress is _here_? _Now?_"

There was a lengthy pause, and from where Gaius was sitting he could see Merlin bite firmly on the inside of his bottom lip. It was a tick, and the physician knew that whatever Merlin was about to say was a lie.

"I don't know."

* * *

><p>The interview did not last long after that. It was past midnight by the time Merlin and Gaius left.<p>

Gaius's face was in a deep frown, and he was fully prepared to bombard Merlin with questions as they left the great hall, but then the door shut, Merlin's façade broke, and after seeing the state that his ward was in, Gaius decided not to press the matter.

In the throne room, even as he walked out, Merlin had been straight-faced and walked with an even gait, but once the doors closed and they were alone in the darkness of the courtyard, his mask fell and shattered. He sighed and let his face finally betray the pain and tiredness he felt, and grabbed onto his staff with both hands for a moment while he favored his leg entirely. Gaius didn't need to ask what was wrong, so the physician only did his best to get him back to his quarters quickly and with as few questions as possible. Merlin had a thin sheen of sweat on his face when he finally collapsed onto his bed. Arthur and Young Merlin were long asleep, but had left a few candles burning in anticipation of their return. They were small stubs of wax as Gaius rifled in his medicine cabinet.

"Here," The physician's voice was soft in the quiet room as he handed his aged ward a small tub of salve and a roll of linen. Merlin looked up to it in surprise.

"Wrap it with this where it hurts. It should help with the soreness," Gaius explained, nodding at Merlin's leg. "Help you sleep better."

Merlin blinked, and let a grateful smile take over his weary face. "Thank you, Gaius." The physician politely turned his back and began brewing some tea while Merlin changed for bed and applied the salve to his leg. When he heard that the other man was lying back in bed, he turned.

"Merlin…" He began seriously, but stopped when he saw him, tired, eyes closed, all to the world like he was about to simply pass out. But loyally, Merlin reopened his eyes and peered back up around at his mentor.

"What is it?" He asked, voice thin.

Gaius let out a small sigh. _What do you mean, you don't know where she was going? Is Morgana here? Did you see her? I know you were lying. What's going on? What do you know?_ They were all questions that burned at his mouth, but seeing Merlin now, he knew it wasn't the time. That would come later. He forced a small smile. "Sleep well," he said, and despite his misgivings, he meant it. Merlin smiled weakly back up at him, muttered a thank you, and turned in his bed. The minute was hardly out before he was lying still beneath the blankets, drawing deep, even breaths.

Gaius watched him, feeling equally relieved and worried. It was good to see Merlin awake, and despite the awkward circumstances, it was a pleasure to interact with this older version of his ward. It was even better to see him so peacefully asleep, on the road to recovery. But that was another thing. _Recovery._ Merlin was weak. He couldn't use his magic of his own volition. He could barely stand, let alone walk, even with the staff. Gaius had seen enough to know that it would take some time before Merlin's magic returned to its full strength, which meant of course that it would take some time before _Merlin_ would return to his full strength. Considering their situation, it was hardly ideal.

Because now, apparently, Morgana – _Older_ Morgana - was in Camelot.

_Or was she?_

That was the dilemma, Gaius thought to himself as he prepared for bed. Merlin hadn't said that she _was_ in Camelot, or if she _wasn't_. He hadn't even lied about it either way – but he had said that _he didn't know_, and he had _lied_ about it.

Merlin knew where – and when – Morgana was. But he wasn't saying so, and that made Gaius extremely uneasy. Merlin was very good at hiding things, it was true, but he didn't hide things because he liked doing so. Merlin only hid information of _that_ importance when he thought that the answer could put those he cared about in jeopardy – Arthur, Gaius, Gwen, or Camelot itself.

Gaius snuffed the candles and turned in for bed, wondering if he shouldn't be looking over his shoulder for a time-travelling witch come to attack in the night. But Merlin, with whatever secret knowledge he possessed, seemed to sleep peacefully. The fact gave Gaius comfort, but he couldn't quite quell the itch to _know_, even as he fell asleep.

He needed answers. If they were going to get through this, they _all_ needed answers.


	14. Arthur Conspires With Himself

**A/N:** Okay, I had _way_ too much fun with this chapter, which is why it ended up so long. I don't know why, but writing up fictitious research and texts is just so _fun_ to me. I might have gotten carried away with it. I have in the past. I've done a few chapters like this one with fake books and research, so… I'm sorry if it's all really boring or longwinded. But for everyone who's been asking for some Young!Arthur/Old!Arthur interaction, here's your chapter! I hope you enjoy it, and know that there will be more of it to come.

* * *

><p>Arthur's face had tensed itself into a thoughtful frown since the night before, after the Older Merlin had left. He hadn't slept well that night, and was only half aware of what he was doing as he shoved a shirt over his head. He looked down at his desk and drummed his fingers thoughtfully where he stood.<p>

"Merlin,"

"Hmm?" the servant responded from where he was collecting laundry.

"Have you seen… _Merlin_ at all recently?"

Arthur could hear Merlin pause in whatever he was doing before resuming work. "Only this morning, before I came here," he said.

"You didn't… have breakfast with him or something?"

"No, he was still asleep. Why do you ask?"

Arthur didn't even shrug as he picked up his belt. "Oh, no reason," which both of them knew was a lie, but then, Merlin couldn't have given a better reason than Arthur had, so he didn't call him out on it. The silence in the room, normally comfortable in the early mornings, grew awkward. "Have you seen much of him at all, then? He seems to be sleeping quite a bit."

"Well of course he has, he's not well yet," Merlin said.

"But when he _is_ awake, you two… do you get on?"

Merlin sighed. "Well, I guess so. I dunno. It's weird, but… Arthur, _why_ are you asking me this?"

When Arthur turned around, Merlin was frowning at him in a slightly embarrassed manner. The prince actually felt slightly bad about it, but shrugged it off. "Just curious," he muttered and turned back around. Where Merlin couldn't see, he let the confusion take over his features and screw his expression into one of rare, deep preoccupation.

Seeing _himself_ a few days ago had been highly disconcerting. Hearing himself, seeing what he could _become_… he didn't like it. Even if Arthur didn't believe this whole time travel nonsense – which he hadn't, at the time – the golden-haired newcomer was far too similar and far too different from himself for Arthur to tolerate introductions calmly. But then, to see _Merlin_… It was even more disconcerting. He was a whole different person. _But not_. If someone had asked Arthur to explain it, he wouldn't have been able to. The man was _Merlin_. But he was more than that. Merlin was a servant. If somehow, by some ridiculous turn of fate, Merlin were made a _king,_ this _Future_ Merlin would be the result. Confident, commanding, wise… it was complete contradiction to the Merlin that Arthur knew. But if anything, it was a contradiction that had sparked a fierce curiosity in the Prince, a curiosity to learn more about what had happened, what _would_ happen to turn his bumbling servant Merlin into such a knowledgeable, capable man. What would happen to _Arthur_ that would make him into such a king. _What. How. When. Why._

It was this curiosity that had Arthur's jaw working hard on his right cheek. This wasn't just being curious about a newcomer to court, or a political ally. This was Arthur – Arthur _Pendragon_ – curious about _magic_. There was no enemy, no sorcerer, no beast or curse waiting to gobble them all up, only two friends from the future and _magic._ And Arthur was so itchingly curious that it hurt, but some ingrained filter forbid him from indulging his curiosity by interacting with them, by asking them the questions he ached to ask. He wanted to figure it out. He wanted to learn. He wanted to see this though, get them home – _somehow_. But something told him that his curiosity was prowling around nothing but a web full of magic, and his father's lessons throbbed in his head as he toed a line that his own laws forbade him to cross.

He hadn't realized he'd begun biting at his nails until one was already scarred and jagged. He shook his hand away and blushed, glancing at Merlin out of the corner of his eye. He knew that Merlin knew about his nervous habits, and he knew that Merlin knew that he was nervous. Either way, the servant wasn't saying anything about it, giving Arthur the distinct impression that Merlin understood exactly what was going through his mind. Merlin had always been uncanny that way.

"Don't suppose you or Gaius have figured out all this time travel jumbo yet?" And although he was referring to _young_ Merlin, something about the way he said it made them both wonder if he didn't mean the _Older_ Merlin, too.

"No," Merlin told him as he pulled up the covers of the bed to the pillows. "Gaius is working on it, last time I checked. Arthur is helping him." He added the last part on as an afterthought, but it made Arthur pause.

"I see." Arthur knew he shouldn't pursue questioning again, but he just couldn't help it. "You haven't seen him much, have you?"

"No, _him_, I have seen a bit," Merlin told him without looking up. Arthur's gut twisted. "Gaius is keeping him cooped up in his chambers, you probably know." Merlin actually smiled. "He's incredibly bored, and at this rate, might actually make a better helper to Gaius than I do. Certainly around more often."

Somehow, Merlin's casual tone about the whole thing made it feel even more surreal, more awkward. _Arthur,_ the prince told himself, _that's _you _he's talking about. You. In a different place._ Why did that make him mad? He shook his head. "And, eh… you two… do _you_ get on well?"

Merlin did look uncomfortable, then. "Well, I suppose, yes. Don't have much a choice, with him being there all the time." Merlin fell into silence as he fluffed Arthur's pillows. When he was done, he frowned and looked back up at Arthur curiously.

"Why don't _you_ talk to them? If you have questions, they'll be able to answer more than I can."

Arthur probably looked as nervous as he felt. "I only haven't because… I've been busy."

"Busy?" Merlin said incredulously.

"Yes. Training, and… Father."

"It's alright to be a bit scared, Arthur. I'd be concerned if you weren't. But really, it's not so bad once you talk with them."

Arthur thinned his lips. Trust _Merlin_ to warm up to them so quickly. "I'm not scared," he said. Merlin nodded sarcastically.

"Of course."

"I'm _not_."

Merlin sighed. "Arthur, you're being childish about this. Not because you're scared, but because you won't admit it." And although the prince rarely if ever tolerated such frankness form anyone, let alone from Merlin, he didn't say anything. "At least go and ask Gaius how his research is coming along, later. Maybe _seeing _them will help a bit." Merlin picked up a stack of laundry. "Will you need anything else?" Arthur didn't reply, but resumed biting on his nails. Merlin sighed. "Very well, Sire." He sounded somewhat disappointed as he trudged out of the room.

Arthur stared blankly out of the window for what might have been a few minutes, or a whole hour. When the sound of footsteps at the door broke his bubble of thought, he found he'd lost his sense of time passing. Without turning around, he said.

"Merlin, what you said earlier – do you _really_ think that-"

"I'm sorry," a voice interrupted, and the surreal sound sent shivers up his spine. "I'm not Merlin." Arthur turned toward the door, only to see… well, _himself_. He swallowed. If the Other Arthur was uncomfortable with the situation at all, he was hiding it. "Though if you're truly curious, you should know: if ever Merlin says something ridiculously out of line in that far-too-bossy tone of his, he is probably telling you _exactly_ what he thinks."

Arthur couldn't help it when he looked his other self up and down. He hadn't noticed before, in the interview, the difference in attire, which seemed a bit more worn and… _rich_ than what he was used to wearing. His leanness and athleticism was still there, but there was something… _something…_

King Arthur coughed, and the prince's train of thought broke. He thought of apologizing, but didn't. "Was there… something I could help you with?" The prince asked with difficulty. "I was under the impression Gaius wasn't allowing either of you to leave his chambers."

Older Arthur smiled. "True. For totally different reasons. Merlin, because he can hardly walk without falling unconscious, the idiot. But I'm stuck there for more… diplomatic reasons." He said meaningfully, indicating the awkwardness of their meeting.

"And… why are you here, then?" Young Arthur asked. The Older Arthur nodded.

"I've been helping Gaius research, you see. Trying to find out anything there is to know about this whole 'time travel' business. Unfortunately, we've run into road block. I need your help."

And only because it was _his _voice that he was talking to did the prince catch the underlying uneasiness in Older Arthur's tone.

"Help? What kind of help?"

King Arthur was watching him closely, his eyes studying his own, searching for something, some kind of recognition. Recognition of _what, _ Arthur wasn't sure. "We're looking for a book. Several books, possibly. Books that only you and your father can lay hands on."

The prince frowned. "Why not just ask my father, then? You should know, he's just as keen for you to get back to wherever – _when_ever you came just as much as you are."

"Not quite as keen, I think, if he were to hear exactly what books we need to look through." The king explained.

The tension was palpable. They were looking into time-locked reflections of themselves, and they were _fighting_ with themselves.

"_What_ books?" Prince Arthur asked, and suddenly gathered from the expression on the King's face that he really, _really_ wasn't going to like this.

* * *

><p>Getting into the 'forbidden' section of the library was, on paper, easy for any member of the Pendragon family. In practice, Geoffrey of Monmouth held his archives on a tighter watch than a prison. However, after thorough intimidation by Prince Arthur (<em>you do know how I am, don't you?<em>) and persuasive reasoning from King Arthur (_Yes, Gaius is the one who sent us…_) the respective Arthurs were finally allowed past two locked doors into a room filled with dust and the mustiness of decades' disuse.

Prince Arthur coughed and squinted into the darkness. "Do you have a light?" He asked his other self. King Arthur grunted and fished a flint out of his pocket. "I had thought of that…" he chipped it a few times, and sparked it against a torch that sat mounted at the doorway. Cobwebs sizzled against the flame, and he wrestled it from its mounting to bring the light around to illuminate the room. As soon as he looked around, Prince Arthur froze.

The room wasn't very large. Perhaps a bit smaller than Arthur's bedchambers. But everywhere, on every wall, there were bookshelves, and filling each shelf and spilling onto the tables strewn about the room, there were books. And all over the books, in various places in various fonts, were runes. Magic runes. They were all books on _magic_. Arthur took a step back out of his uneasiness, and his Older Self cast back a concerned, sympathetic look before sighing and stepping forward.

Of course, Older Arthur had warned him that this is what they'd be doing. But somehow, he hadn't really been prepared. "I don't like it," he told himself. Older Arthur didn't say anything, but both of them could hear the nervousness in his voice. "We need to leave."

"After all the trouble we went through? No, we need to at least _look_."

Arthur looked around himself. Through the flickering torchlight, the runes in the books stared at him, burning his eyes. Everything he'd ever been taught made this place reek with _wrongness_. "But they're _magic_ books. _Magic!_"

King Arthur turned and regarded him, a deep frustration and sadness in his eyes. And something else… regret? Prince Arthur felt incredibly self-conscious in that moment. It looked like Older Arthur was going to speak, but then he stopped himself. Eventually he said, "we came here by magic. It only makes sense that the way back would be magic as well. Gaius thinks we might find a solution in here somewhere." He turned back around and scanned the shelves before him. Merlin would have thrown a fit if he could see his library like this – unorganized, abandoned, unread, unused, and not dusted for _decades_. Arthur had to smile at the thought. He'd never really viewed Merlin as a dedicated scholar, but there were few things on the earth that his Court Sorcerer was more protective of than his _books_.

Behind him, Prince Arthur could only think how horrible the library was. "What _exactly_ are we looking for?" He asked, taking a hesitant step forward.

"Golcar," King Arthur said, yanking a stack of books off a shelf and dusting them off with the side of his sleeve.

"What?"

"_Who_, actually. Gaius and I have been scouring his library for any information on time travel. We've come up with nothing, save for the name of a man who may have studied the subject – 'Golcar'."

Arthur frowned. "That's an odd name."

The king nodded. "Gaius thinks it's probably a surname – researchers are usually known by such. Here, help me." Arthur tossed a book to his younger self, who flailed awkwardly to catch it and looked at the book as if it were going to attack him. Older Arthur couldn't help his slight smirk.

"It won't _eat_ you, you know." Although he _had_ seen some enchanted books that would. "Read it. See what it's about."

With extreme reservation, Prince Arthur opened the book, prepared for some horrible spell to fly up in his face. When it didn't, he looked curiously down at the pages and frowned. It was so… _normal._ He glanced up at his older self and saw that the other man had found a chair to sit at and was reading a spell book (a very _large _one, at that) as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He glanced at his own text. It was in English, with normal words, spelled in normal letters, on normal parchment, with a few ink blotches here and there where a normal author must have spilt normal ink by mistake.

But it was a _magic_ book. It wasn't supposed to be _normal_. Was it? He flipped over the book to see its cover. It was painfully ordinary, with hardly anything to identify it save for the half-faded title on the spine, written in English. _Conjuration for the Journeyman_. Alright, 'conjuration' wasn't exactly a subject he heard about often, but the text just _looked_ so plain that it seemed unremarkable. Arthur flipped the book back open and began reading again.

Arthur didn't want to admit it, but the anticlimax of it somehow disappointed him. He glanced up at his older self, who was deep in concentration as he leaned over his book. Fighting through a cloud of confusion and disappointment, Arthur focused on the words and began reading. Eventually, he sank cross-legged to the floor.

The vast majority of what the book said floated right over his head. He mentioned this aloud, and King Arthur chuckled in sympathy. "Just scan for certain words… time, time travel, perhaps 'portal' or 'shift'. Don't get too wrapped up in the details. We have a _lot _of ground to cover."

But the prince couldn't help it. He would skim for a while, but then he'd get caught on a paragraph or a section and he would begin to read in depth. It was so _strange_. He didn't know what he'd ever expected of magic books, but this was not it. He'd studied science and astronomy as a juvenile (as all good royal children would) and even though he complained about them at the time, had actually taken some small hidden joy out of his lessons with his tutor. He was shocked to find that these magic books were incredibly similar, in word and phrasing, to some of the scientific texts he read as a student.

"…_In normal conditions, the conjuration of a_ diogelu _(otherwise known by the Continental mages as the _patronus_), the strength of the charm is found to be proportionate to the reserves of _magika_ available for use in the caster. The charm itself cannot use up all of the caster's magic (the _diogelu_ itself disallows it by nature) but can tire a sorcerer quickly if left unchecked. In many cases, and some quite remarkable, desperate need and urgency can strengthen the _diogelu_ through a power unclassifiable in magical terms. Research has been poured into this particular conundrum, to little avail. Nevertheless, study on the _diogelu_ conjurations and their riddles continues to this day, most notably under the school of Master Rhys Glenn of Northumbria. Rhys theorizes that the _magika_ currents in a caster are comparable with bloodflow through the human heart, and, like the heart, are aided by certain boosters (e.g. adrenaline) that, under stress, may boost the activity and strength of the caster to the effect of artificially increased _magika…_"_

Arthur suddenly shook himself. No. No. He couldn't do this. He couldn't get wrapped up in _magic books _ of all things. He didn't even like reading. In fact, he despised it. He glanced warily down at the text. But something about this… He'd never heard any of this before. Magic. Research. Mages. Scholars. Schools of magic. It was so _normal_. Scholarly, yes. Confusing, definitely. But so orderly. So unthreateningly and temptingly _fascinating_ and _normal._

As Arthur read on to more books, he realized something else that challenged all he knew about magic. Although it wasn't always clearly drawn or explicitly mentioned, there were underlying boundaries in all the studies he read about. Lines in the sand. Good and bad. Light and dark. _Black magic_ was something he saw mentioned several times, but only in passing, in forbidden tones, in condescension. And in the times it was mentioned, he saw several things that he recognized, things he and his kingdom had been beset by before. _Curse. Plague._ And even _Cornelius Sigan_. He was shocked to realize that these authors, these _sorcerers_ mentioned Camelot's enemies with scorn. But they were magic. And all magicians were the same, weren't they?

His head hurt. After five books or so and lord only knew how many hours in that dusty room, Arthur finally came upon a book that he found completely unreadable. It was filled with odd words which he realized must be spells, but by then he was too confused and weary-eyed to react.

"Do you have _any_ idea what this means?" He turned the book around so that his older self could see it. King Arthur was making considerably faster progress, with a good dozen books lying stacked to one side, but he hadn't found anything worth mentioning. He squinted at the book Arthur held out to him, and shook his head.

"Sorry. It's in the old tongue. I can't read it - just set it to the side."

They continued like this for a little while longer until the _do it now, fix it now_ side of Arthur's personality finally decided to give. He sighed. "I don't see a _lick _of information on this _Golcar_ fellow anywhere in here. Ought we to look somewhere else?"

King Arthur sighed and looked around at the room full of books they hadn't yet touched. "There's so much… Surely, somewhere in here…" He glanced around.

"Did you ask Geoffrey?"

"Gaius wanted to keep him out of this, for now. It is _magic_ we're talking about. We need to be careful."

And Arthur understood that well enough. His stomach clenched in guilt as he surveyed the magic books strewn around him, books he'd been studying for hours. He thought for a moment, then said, "Did Golcar live in one of the Five Kingdoms?" He asked. Older Arthur shrugged as he pulled another stack of books from the shelf.

"I don't know. Possibly. Why?"

"Well, perhaps if we can't find him in here, we can look in the census records." Older Arthur froze at this revelation. Prince Arthur continued, "I mean, at least then we might know a bit more about him."

"That is an _excellent_ idea." King Arthur pointed at him. "And it just might work. I can't leave this room though, or Geoffrey will never let me back in. Go get him to let you through to the records room, see what you can find. If you do find anything, come back and tell me."

Arthur nodded, feeling fulfilled to have a battle plan and even more satisfied that it had been his idea. He marched through the corridors confidently to Geoffrey's desk, and the archivist seemed relieved to see him out of the 'magic book room' and helped him find the records he wanted quickly.

Looking through old census records was immensely more boring than reading magic books, Arthur decided with slight mortification. It was all names and dates and occupations and residences. Luckily, they were sorted alphabetically by last name, which made Arthur's job easier. He'd read back through nearly two centuries of Camelot's residents (thank God censuses were only taken once every decade, or he'd have been there all week) and a century of Lot's kingdom before he finally moved onto the province that was Cenred's kingdom. With a wall of books on either side of him, just barely back to the third century, his tired eyes froze.

There, on the page in front of him, neatly written on parchment that had to have been older than the castle of Camelot itself,

_Golcar, Eoran, male age 27_

_Golcar, Earnan, male age 22_

He just stared at it for a moment. He'd begun to believe that 'Golcar' couldn't have existed for not finding _anything_ on him, but now there wasn't just _one_ man with his name, but _two_. In a haze of mixed excitement, exhaustion, and a leg that had fallen asleep nearly an hour ago, he took the book, marked his place, and stumbled back the room of spellbooks to share his discovery.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hope it wasn't _too_ boring, and brownie points to whoever can spot the _Harry Potter_ reference I snuck in there.


	15. But We Don't Remember

**A/N:** If any of you have ever wanted evidence that I make up my stories on the fly as I go, this chapter is exhibit A. Everything in here are scenes that probably could have gone _before_ the last few chapters, but I've written them to go together now. Because of this, this chapter seems really choppy and out of place, but hopefully it somehow flows along nicely. I should warn you, this chapter is a heavy dose of time travel theory, so put on your paradox hats and try to subdue temporal logic for as long as you dare! Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>Earlier that morning…<em>

Merlin watched his older self quietly. The man was sitting at a small table near the far end of the room, under the window but not looking out of it, hands perched under his nose and face deep in thought. He hadn't moved much since he'd returned from the interview with Uther. Carefully, Merlin picked up a bottle of the enchanted medicine and approached the Older Merlin.

"You'll need to take this," He said. His other self grunted. "Of course, you'll need to eat something first. So you don't get sick." Another grunt. Merlin sighed uncomfortably. "Right." He scurried off and put together a breakfast tray and brought it back, with the medicine, over to his Older counterpart. He stood there for a moment, waiting to be acknowledged, but when nothing happened, he stepped forward and set the tray on the table in front of him. "I'll just leave this here, then." He went back over to what he'd been doing, sorting Gaius' newest shipment of herbs and putting away the elixirs that had been brewing overnight.

The small chambers were unbearably quiet, and even when the Older Merlin began to sullenly eat his breakfast, no one spoke. Arthur had left early that morning to see his younger self about gaining access to the archives, and Gaius was out on his morning rounds to his patients. Luckily, the morning proved to demand little medical attention. Gaius was back soon after the Older Merlin forced down his dose of medicine with a wince.

"Ah, good, you're up. How do you feel?" He asked the man. Older Merlin did not answer for a moment, but eventually shrugged and looked away. Gaius frowned at him, and then sent a look over at his ward past intensely set eyebrows. Merlin shrugged helplessly.

"He's been like this all morning," He told Gaius quietly when the physician came up next to him, "since he woke up. I don't know what's wrong with him." Gaius nodded and cast a worried look over at the warlock, who either didn't hear them or was pretending not to.

"Have you heard any word about Arthur – either of them?" Gaius changed the subject. Merlin shook his head.

"I woke up Prince Arthur earlier, did some chores, took out his laundry, but… when I came back he wasn't there. That's when I learned that Older Arthur had come to fetch him for something." He shrugged. "I can only imagine that they've been successful, since neither of them are back yet."

Gaius nodded. "Good. Well, go and finish whatever chores you have left in the castle, and come back here after." He looked over at Older Merlin. "I'll keep an eye on him." Merlin followed his gaze, sighed, and nodded. He left soon after, leaving the physician and his statue-like patient alone in the room. Gaius went to his routine of potion-making, comfortable in the silence but watching Merlin all the same. He'd noticed the warlock's quieter mood since returning from the interview, but it was growing steadily worse.

The situation must have been unnerving for the Younger Merlin, who had never actually had to interact with himself when he was buried in thought or depression, but Gaius recognized the signs. Merlin's mind was wrapped thoroughly around a problem, and he'd apparently come to a conclusion that was less than palatable. And he didn't want any of them to know. Just like he didn't want them to know about Morgana. Just like he hid his pain from the king, the prince. He wasn't talking. Just _sitting _there, brooding.

Gaius looked down at his work and tried not to be mad at him. It wasn't really working.

* * *

><p>It was nearly dusk when the Arthurs came into Gaius' chambers, looking a great deal more comfortable around each other since the first time they'd spoken. Younger Arthur in particular looked rather excited about something.<p>

"Gaius," King Arthur said, "we got into the archives, like I said we would,"

"Ah, yes," The physician brightened, "have you found anything about time travel?" Young Merlin perked up to listen, but his older self only spared a sideways glance from where he still sat at the window.

"No, not exactly, but we followed up on the one lead we had – the mention of _Golcar_ in that book of yours…"

Gaius cut them off . "Oh, please don't tell me you wasted your time on that," He said, and both Arthurs looked a bit deflated. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I told you when you found that passage, the name sounded familiar? I finally remembered earlier why I knew it."

"And why is that?" King Arthur asked.

"Golcar is the name – surname, anyway – of two brothers. I only remember the name because they were the two very first patients I treated as Court Physician in Camelot."

The Arthurs stared, then began to frown, and then looked extremely, _extremely_ confused. They glanced at each other. "You _met_ them?" Prince Arthur asked. "You _met_ Earnan and Eoran?"

"Yes!" Gaius brightened at the name, "Yes, those were their names." He frowned. "How do you know them?"

"We were looking for the name, as we said… we found them in the census records."

Gaius nodded. "It only makes sense. I'm sorry you went to all that trouble, though."

"Gaius," King Arthur sounded uneasy as he stared at the physician. "You _couldn't_ have met them."

"Why do you say that?" The physician frowned. They could all feel the mounting tension in the air.

"The census records we found them in… Gaius, the Golcar brothers lived nearly two hundred and fifty years ago."

The silence was deafening.

"You're sure?" The physician's voice was weak.

"I looked through every record in the Five Kingdoms," Prince Arthur told him, "It's the first mention of Golcar I could find. The year 290. In Cenred's Kingdom."

Gaius was shaking his head. "That's… That's impossible. That's not possible. They said they were from Camelot."

King Arthur spoke up, "Um, Gaius, if I may… back then, Cenred's Kingdom _was_ a part of Camelot." He paused. "They could have been telling the truth."

"But if they were telling the truth, how could they have possibly ended up _here_?"

"They couldn't have," Young Merlin spoke up for the first time. All eyes turned to him. "Unless they were attempting to travel through time, and they succeeded."

* * *

><p>They all ate dinner together that night, talking about their discovery and what it could mean. All except for Older Merlin, who stayed resolutely in his seat, a tray of dinner and more medicine sitting untouched in front of him.<p>

"What's wrong with him?" Prince Arthur asked, glancing over at the sorcerer.

Gaius sighed. I'm not sure. He's been… depressed like this ever since he returned from the interview yesterday evening. I don't know why."

"Has he been feeling alright?" King Arthur wanted to know.

"As far as I can tell, Sire. He's eaten at least a little, and taken the medication I've prescribed him. He looks healthy. Whatever it is that has him so sullen is not physical in nature."

Prince Merlin studied the other man curiously. He didn't think he'd ever seen Merlin _depressed_ about anything. He glanced at the Younger Merlin, who met his eyes and blushed. The servant shrugged and went back to his meal.

"Since the interview, you say?"

"Yes."

"Strange. He seemed fine when I saw him there. He answered my father easily enough." And this seemed to interest Younger Merlin, who of course hadn't been allowed to sit in on the meeting.

"He could barely _walk _when he left here," King Arthur put in. His younger self looked somewhat surprised.

"Well he certainly managed just fine when he got to the throne room. Speaking of which, Gaius, I've been meaning to ask you something about Merlin's interview," He spooned in a mouthful a stew, and Gaius took the pause to look uneasy. "When he introduced himself to the council…" Arthur swallowed. "I wasn't aware that Merlin _had_ a surname," He glanced at the younger Merlin, who frowned. Gaius paled. King Arthur tensed. The prince didn't seem to notice.

"But I _don't_," Merlin said.

"Well _he _said you do," Arthur jabbed a spoon in Older Merlin's direction. "He said his name was Merlin _Emrys_." Arthur's face made an odd expression as he sounded out the unfamiliar name. Beside him, King Arthur choked loudly on his dinner and slammed down his spoon.

"He did _what?!_"

Younger Arthur looked bewildered at his double's outburst. Gaius was pale. Merlin was squirming in his seat, sending accusatory glances at his Older self.

"His surname, he said it was _Emrys_." Arthur regarded himself with uneasiness and confusion. "Why, was it a lie? I didn't _think_ Merlin had a family name…"

But King Arthur didn't say anything. He only stared, first at Arthur, and then at Older Merlin, who sat just as still as he had all morning by the window. He looked dead to world, but Arthur had known him long enough to know better. He glared harder. Eventually, he turned back to the group eating at the table. His expression was guarded and he didn't look at them as he spoke.

"Gaius, Merlin, Arthur… Would you give me a moment with him?" His tone was low and angry, and for a moment no one moved. "Alone."

"Right," Prince Arthur said uneasily, glancing at Older Merlin, who remained unaffected. "Merlin, come on. It's nearly dark and you've yet to clean up my room." He didn't sound like it really needed to be done, but it gave Merlin a reason to follow him as he left Gaius chambers. As he shut the door behind him, Merlin shot glances between his older self and the King. Gaius stood and looked for a moment like he was about to say something, but thought better of it and left quietly.

As soon as the door latch closed behind them, Arthur couldn't contain his anger.

"What the _hell_, Merlin?!" He yelled, and Merlin at least had the grace to flinch. "Good _God,_ Merlin, what were you _thinking_?!" He stormed over to him. "_Emrys? _You _told_ them? Are you _insane?_ _Morgana was there, Merlin!_"

Merlin didn't move. Arthur clenched his jaw and thanked the stars above he didn't have his sword with him. He went around Merlin's table and planted his palms down on it to lean down in Merlin's face.

"Merlin bloody Emrys, I don't know what you are thinking right now, but you had better have a _damn _good explanation for this. You _know_ how dangerous that information is in the wrong hands – _Morgana_, Merlin! My father! I don't care if it _is _your name, it could get us killed!" When Merlin didn't respond again, Arthur hit the table loudly, making Merlin's arms jerk back from it. "_Say something, damnit!_" Arthur waited for Merlin to meet his gaze, and when he did, his voice shook with restrained anger. "Merlin, _why did you tell them_?"

Merlin looked at him silently for a moment. "I'm sorry." He said, and looked down. "I had to know what it'd do."

"What it'd… Merlin, _what _are you talking about?"

The sorcerer sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Have a seat, Arthur." He waved at the chair across from him, and Arthur pulled it up to the table and tried to be patient.

"It's about this whole time travel thing," Merlin said, looking away from him. "No one knows how it works."

"The Golcar brothers seem to," Arthur said, slowly reining in his anger, "If we could find out-"

"How old were they?" Merlin interrupted. Arthur frowned.

"What?"

"In the census records you found, how old were they?"

Arthur's anger was beginning to melt into confusion. "Er… In their twenties, I think?"

"And this was the only mention of them that you found?"

"Well… the first mention, at least, working back from the present day."

"Then there was no mention of them after the date of 290 C.E." Merlin said. Arthur blinked. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"No, I suppose not. Why?"

"It's because they traveled forward in time, Arthur." Merlin said. "And they never got back to their original time."

It took a moment before Arthur could wrap his mind around that, but when he did, he shook his head. "Merlin, just because they didn't appear in the census again, that doesn't mean that-"

"But what if it _does_, Arthur?" Merlin turned to him. Arthur's eyes begged for an explanation, so Merlin took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts, and started over. "Arthur, the only things I know about time travel are all theories. Logic. And everyone I've ever spoken with on the subject all agree: _if_ time travel is possible, travelling into past can bear only one of two consequences."

"Alright," Arthur nodded, trying to follow along.

"The first possibility is that by going into the past and changing things, a person could change the future – change the shape of destiny itself. The whole world could change, and when the traveler goes back to their own time, their future will be completely different than it was when they left." Arthur was looking rather worried.

"And the second?" He asked nervously.

"The second possibility is more complicated." Merlin clenched and unclenched a fist around his pantleg – a nervous habit of his. "By going into the past and tampering with events, a time traveler changes the future – but not of the same world. By changing the past, he creates not only a new future, but a new _world_."

Arthur frowned. "I don't understand."

"Tampering with the past, even in small ways, can bear huge consequences, Arthur. Like an archer. Even the smallest twitch of the bow arm, and the arrow lands metres off target, yes?"

"I follow,"

"Time is the same way. Change something just a _little _bit in the past, and in the future it could bear huge repercussions. Some believe that these repercussions would be so big, so irreconcilable that they would, in effect, create a whole new world, a new future, a new dimension."

"A new… world." Arthur said. "Merlin, I think you've lost me."

Merlin sighed, obviously unsure of how to explain. "Imagine a world, Arthur, a story. Now, if some of the characters from the _end_ of that story were somehow transported back toward the _beginning_, and made to do it all over again, but with all of the original characters as well, the story would end up totally different, wouldn't it?"

"Yes…"

"But the original story was _already written_, you see. The new story can't just _erase_ it. So it becomes a _second_ story. Another book, or volume. Right beside the first, and similar, but very different. It's the very same with time, Arthur. By coming back in time to an earlier time in our lives, we may be creating new story; a new world. But it's not _our_ world anymore. Our world is still out there somewhere, but the world we're in _now_, is the second world, the new world. Our own lives on repeat, but headed for a different path."

Arthur _was_ following along this time, and he looked horrified.

"The longer we stay here, the more we interact, the more things we change, Arthur, the more we drift further and further away from our world. And the further we are away from it, the harder it is going to be to ever get back."

Arthur was blinking rapidly, trying to absorb and rationalize everything he'd just heard.

"But surely… _surely_ there is a way… What if this isn't another world? What if it turns out to be like the first scenario you mentioned?"

Merlin's reply surprised him. "Do you remember it?"

Arthur frowned. "What?"

"Do you _remember_ it? _This?_ Arthur, if we were changing our own future – in _our_ world right now, it would affect you and me even as we are here. We're from the _future_, a future we are reshaping as we speak. If we were able to change our own futures, we would _feel_ it. Remember it, even as we change it."

"Like how?"

"Every day, you and I are interacting with our younger selves. You spent an entire day cooped up reading magic books with yourself. But tell me, do you remember that?"

"Merlin, it was this morning, of course I remember-"

"From _his_ point of view, Arthur. Because you should."

Arthur looked at him oddly, and blinked, and then slowly began to understand. "No..." He said, revelation slowly gaining purchase on his face. "No, I… I don't."

"Exactly. Neither do I. That's why I introduced myself as Emrys. It'd been bothering me that I wasn't_ remembering_ anything that's been happening, but I thought maybe, it was just… _lagging_ somehow. That if I did something bigger, something _huge_, it'd carry through to our own future faster so I would remember. No one in this time knows who Emrys is – yet. But if I reveal myself to be Emrys now, it _will_ bring changes in the future, and I _would_ remember it. But I _don't_." Arthur looked up to Merlin's face, and realized that he hadn't seen him look so scared in a long, long time. "We _aren't_ changing our own futures, Arthur, which can only lead me to believe that we're changing someone _else's_ future – Young Merlin, Young Arthur. We're changing the futures that they will grow up into. But they're not _our_ futures. We're stuck in a world that's not ours, and I have _no_ idea how we'll get back."

For a long time, they just stared. Eventually, although he wasn't sure he meant it, Arthur shook himself and told Merlin, "No. No, we'll find a way. We'll find out what these Golcar people studied, and what they did, how they… how they managed time travel. We will, Merlin. We _will_ get back. But we're going to have to try." He swallowed. "Promise me you'll try, Merlin."

"You expected me not to?"

"It just… you've been brooding all day about this. But if it _is _true, what you're saying… I need your help."

"I know," Merlin said. "I'm just scared that I'll mess things up even further. But we need to work quickly, Arthur. The longer we stay here, the harder it'll be to get back."

And although neither of them mentioned Morgana, both of them were thinking about her separately. How did _she _manage time travel? What did she expect to accomplish? Where was she? And perhaps most importantly, would they be able to face her, should worst come to worst? Arthur glanced over at the bottle of medication that sat on the table where Merlin still hadn't touched it. He nudged it toward the sorcerer.

"If we _are_ going to get out of here, we'll need you with your magic back."

Merlin actually laughed and took the bottled with a grimace. "Don't remind me." He drank the medicine and wondered if it would actually help.


	16. A Library and a Looking Glass

Reluctantly, after confiding in Arthur for a while later, Merlin agreed to come out of his internal hermitage and interact with the others, if only enough to make them stop worrying. Neither king nor sorcerer mentioned their conversation again, and both attempted to bury their fears for the time being.

Although confused by the lack of closure, the younger Merlin and Arthur did not question the secrecy, although the older two caught the Prince squinting thoughtfully at them more than before. Gaius seemed relieved by Older Merlin's suddenly open attitude, however slight it was in nature.

Without delving into details of their discussion, King Arthur communicated the urgency of their situation to the others with little difficulty.

"We have no way of knowing what we'll face in trying to get back to our time," He said, glancing at his younger self with slight unease. The Prince was the only one who knew nothing of Morgana's involvement. "But we need to work quickly and anticipate trouble. The sooner we can get out of here, the better for all of us." Unsurprisingly no one challenged his judgment.

It was soon decided that Older Merlin would need to take a look at the texts that the Arthurs had perused, searching with a more experienced eye and the new knowledge of the Golcars' involvement. King Arthur explained to his younger counterpart that Merlin knew more of time travel – and yes, magic – than any of them, and while the Prince found this absurdly hard to believe, did not protest for long. He agreed to take Merlin to the archives the next day.

"Only," He said as their conversation dwindled, "How am I supposed to get him in there? You know my father doesn't want others to, well… to _see_ you. Am I supposed to just smuggle him into the castle under my cloak?" He shrugged. Older Merlin smiled.

"It's a thought, but I don't think it will be necessary. I can be _quite_ sneaky when I want to be."

Arthur had already gotten over the fact that Merlin might know a thing or two about magic, but the look on his face said that he wasn't quite ready to believe _that_.

* * *

><p>It had been suggested that Merlin might want to don his younger counterpart's clothes to sneak into the archives, but they had ditched the plan when they realized the staff would give him away regardless. Besides, Older Merlin told them, he much preferred his own (better tailored) tunic. So they merely waited until dusk, one of the least busy times of the day, and rushed to Geoffrey's wing of the castle as quickly and quietly as they could.<p>

Arthur opened the door to the Archives and let Merlin pass through before him. As the two stepped down into the dim hall, someone rounded the corner and stopped in surprise.

"Lady Morgana," Merlin said coolly, as Arthur jumped at her sudden appearance.

"Merlin," Morgana was quicker to recover than her half-brother. Discreetly, she hid the book she was holding behind her. Merlin watched her do it, and lifted his eyes to hers with an inquisitor's eyebrow. She did her best to ignore him. "Arthur, is this…?" She looked Merlin up and down, taking in his clothes, his staff, his beard.

"Yes," Arthur told her, "but don't speak a word of it to anyone."

"What are you doing here?" She asked with a smile Merlin read as forced.

Arthur began to speak, but Merlin interrupted him. "I'm afraid we must be along, I'm not supposed to be here, as you know. I apologize for startling you." Merlin grabbed Arthur's shoulder and steered him past the lady with strength that Younger Merlin did not yet possess. He glanced back at Morgana once, hoping to spy what book she'd been carrying, but she was already gone.

"What the hell?" Arthur slapped Merlin's hand away. "Are you _always_ this rude in the future? It's just Morgana!"

Merlin grit his teeth and tried not to wince. _Just_ Morgana. Arthur made it sound so simple. "The fewer people who know I'm here, the better," was all he said to Young Arthur. The prince looked unappeased. Still, it was less painful than the truth.

* * *

><p>Morgana's heels clacked on the flagstones as she hurried from the archives. Merlin? <em>Older<em> Merlin? With Arthur, in the archives. But why? What pursuit had they in _there_? A claw of fear snatched at her heart, and she wondered if they were on to her. But how could they be? She'd specifically said that they wouldn't know, that even _he_ didn't know about what she was doing.

Nevertheless, an itch of uneasiness made Morgana wonder. She needed to speak with the one who'd brought them here, the one who'd made her a promise. She needed to speak with Lady Le Fey.

She checked the hall twice and searched her room for Gwen before she locked the door and pulled the scrying mirror from beneath her bed.

* * *

><p>It'd taken a bit longer than it should have to distract Geoffrey long enough for Merlin to get into the southern wing, where the 'magic room' was located, but once they'd done it, Arthur had rendezvoused with him and snuck back into the roomful of magic books.<p>

Upon entering, Merlin stopped and stared, jaw dropped in a gobsmacked expression.

Arthur spied him with the torchlight. "You alright, Merlin?"

Merlin shook his head and shuffled dumbly into the room, looking around. "_What happened?!"_ He cried, and set the torch into a wall setting before frantically kneeling by the piles and piles of dusty, disorganized books. "What have you _done_? What has – what was Geoffrey _thinking?_" He picked up a half-decimated book and made strange whimpering noises in the back of his throat at the state of it. "Monmouth, you damn _clot_, when I get back to my time, I'm going to hunt you down and turn your good-for-nothing-hide…" Arthur heard him mutter. The prince was frowning.

"Something wrong?" He asked tentatively.

"_Wrong?_" Merlin stood and wheeled on him. "This… _This_ is what's wrong!" He gestured with his staff around the room. "Look at this mess! Dust, everywhere! And on the floor! And there're just… _scattered_! No organization, no protection, and I don't _want_ to know what's _living_ in here," Arthur glanced nervously around his boots at that, "it's in ruins! My library! In ruins!" Merlin groaned and leaned against his staff.

"Wait, _your library_?" Arthur looked confused. "These… In the future, they belong to _you_?"

Merlin came out of his horror to realize that he'd unthinkingly implied something rather heavy. He looked at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. "All these books are in my care, yes."

"_Magic_ books?"

"Arthur told you I know a thing or two, didn't he? And they're not _all_ magic books. Some are more scientific. Some are historical. Some are even personal journals."

Arthur saw through it. "But they're all _about_ magic, in some way."

Merlin bit his lip. "A bit, yeah."

"Right." And to Merlin's surprise, it was the only word Arthur said on the matter.

Merlin began to clean up the floor and tables, muttering curses against Geoffrey's carelessness as he went, and was repeatedly disappointed as he tried to use subtle magic and was reminded that the lapses still had a hold on his power. He was forced to sweep and dust by hand. Arthur helped him in silence. Eventually, after they'd cleared up a suitable amount of the clutter, Arthur brought him a stack that he and his older counterpart had accumulated previously.

"I – that is, we – I mean, _Arthur _and I," Arthur rolled his eyes and Merlin hid a smile at his confusion, "found these when we were looking through here the other day. He said they're in the Old Tongue, whatever the hell that means. Don't suppose in addition to bookkeeping you've picked up any habit in dead languages, have you?"

"I might've done, and it's not dead just yet. Let me see?" He took the top book from Arthur and opened it.

"Ah, yes. I know this one. It'll be useless to our ends. It's on botany, for one, and relatively recently published, despite the language." He snapped it shut with a cloud of dust. "Tell you what. You go and start fetching books. Glance at them, if they're in the Old Tongue, give them to me. If not, check the date first: we're looking for texts from either the late second and early third centuries, or possibility of our own sixth century. If they fit in those times, go ahead and look for any mention of Golcar."

"Why the two different time periods?" Arthur asked.

Merlin cracked a smile at the prince as he picked up another book. "Golcar and his brother were _time_ travelers, Arthur," He flipped through the pages. "Use your imagination."

* * *

><p>To say that Lady Le Fey was displeased with Merlin's movements was an understatement. Morgana had been forbidden from seeing Le Fey's face, but her voice carried the rage well enough through the scrying mirror, which had been their main form of communication since her arrival in Camelot – or wherever le Fey was located. She hadn't given specifics after she'd left Camelot.<p>

"This… _This _is how he always interferes. _This_ is what makes Emrys _Emrys_. Keep an eye on him."

"I'm sorry, milady," She said, voice shaking ever so slightly. "I _tried_ to poison him before he awoke but-"

"No. Do not concern yourself. It is done. But _now_, we must be extra vigilant."

"Shall I attempt to… to _stop_ him again?"

There was a long pause before Le Fey spoke again. "No," She said at last, a new, thoughtful lilt in her voice. "No, better to leave him be for now. But watch. Watch carefully. I do not think he has uncovered your intentions – not yet, anyway, so be careful. But clearly, he is up to _something_. Does he suspect you at all?"

Morgana was confused by it all, because despite what Le Fey had told her, she still thought of the newcomer as _Merlin_. She did not understand the idea of _Emrys_. "I do not think so. But he looks at me oddly. I told you that the younger one discovered me just after my failure. I fear he has figured out what happened and has told the older one."

Le Fey sounded like she was making an effort not to sound angry when she said, "So you told me before. You need to lie low. Avoid the older ones. Spy from the shadows. Speak only with the younger ones, if you can. Find out as much as possible, and let me know _everything_."

"As you wish, milady."

* * *

><p>Although the idea of hunting down two time travelers in a roomful of forbidden books with a man from the future who wasn't supposed to be anywhere in the castle (let alone the archives) was secretly rather thrilling for Arthur, the dullness of reality was quick to grate at him.<p>

Research was _boring_.

No, scratch that, _fruitless_ research was boring. They'd gone through what felt like half of the entire library (with Merlin rearranging, cleaning, and classifying as he went, the prick) and Arthur's eyes were beginning to go fuzzy and refused to realign. He closed a book, set it aside, and rubbed at his eyes.

"So, I'm curious." The Prince said, desperate for conversation. "Where does one learn to read the 'Old Tongue'?"

Merlin glanced up at him. "Well, if you must know, one studies magic."

Arthur stared, but it was a dead stare. He wasn't even sure if he _could_ be surprised, anymore. "You've _studied_ magic?" Of course, he missed the irony in the grin that followed.

"Something like that." There was a rather awkward pause. Merlin didn't look up from his reading as he said dryly, "Why, you want to kill me for it?"

"Can you _do_ magic?" Merlin sensed the change in tone and looked up fully at Arthur. The Prince was looking at him with equal parts curiosity and discomfort. Merlin sighed. It would feel so much more natural to just admit it. _Yes, I have magic, you dolt. I'm your Court Sorcerer in the future. Can't you feel it? These books? The magic? It's a part of your life too, you're just too much of a clotpole now to realize it. _But Merlin was sure that neither he nor Young Merlin nor Young Arthur were ready for that conversation to open amongst them. He gave Arthur a calculating stare.

"No, I can't."

And at that particular moment, it _wasn't_ a lie.

Arthur looked at him, and eventually gave a soft snort. "Course not. Don' t know why I asked. If you _could_ do magic, you couldn't have been Merlin – not _our_ Merlin, anyway."

Merlin frowned at him. "Why do you say that?"

"He's far too much of an idiot."

And while Merlin faked a laugh for Arthur's sake, on the inside, he wanted to frown deeper. _Idiot_ had never been a painful remark between them. But that time, it hurt. It hurt far more than he would like to admit. Deliberately, Merlin turned back to his reading, taking comfort in the words that Arthur didn't yet understand.

* * *

><p>AN: Phew! Well, I'm back at Uni for my sophomore year, and things are going well, however hectic they are. Hopefully I'll still find some spare time lying around to write with and update more often! A bit of an awkward ending, but I hope y'all enjoyed it regardless!


	17. A Shrewd Relocation

**A/N**: I think I've gotten more emails, PMs, and badgering reviews about this story than anything, ever. I'm really sorry about the delay, everyone, and it is amazing to hear that you are loving this so much that you feel the need to ask for more, but… give me some grace? Some of the messages were fine and polite and all, and some even had some ideas for future chapters, (thanks, guys!) but a lot of them just seemed kind of, if I'm honest, _crass_. Nothing horrible, but… Cut me some slack, please? Life happens. I've been run to the bone by work and homework and uni and everything… I never promised to update on a regular basis, did I? I do my best. It's not like I get paid for this, it's a hobby. Also, going back to school has completely muddled my creative process, and I'm having to dust off/re-arrange the ideas I had for this fic. They're still there, but have been a bit jumbled by my life lately. Most of the writing I do do these days is neither here nor there where plot is concerned, just trying to recover all my idea-springs. Give me some time to regroup and I'll (hopefully) get back to this story with my former gusto.

Alright, author rant over. Those don't happen often, but I wasn't expecting to be so harangued about this. I'm ecstatic that y'all care that much, but… mercy, please!

DISCLAIMER: If you do feel the need to ask for updates on a specific story, please do! I _do_ listen to requests, and it's good to know what stories are appreciated. Still, if you do… just know that you're sending off a message to a full-time student with a hundred and one things to do and very little sleep under her belt. I do what I can!

Anyway, on with the (long awaited, apparently) update!

* * *

><p>The first day of research was utterly fruitless. The second was hardly better. By the third day of Merlin's insistence upon visiting the archives, it became evident that Arthur wouldn't be able to accompany him much longer. Uther was growing increasingly suspicious of his son's whereabouts, and the prince was forced to leave Merlin to his own devices where research was concerned. Unfortunately, the situation posed a problem because without the prince's escort, Merlin was rendered virtually immovable from Gaius quarters, which had begun to feel more and more like a prison. A very cramped, albeit friendly prison.<p>

The answer to their problem came from an unexpected place: a woodcutter.

His name was Jonathan, and his brother had practically dragged him into Gaius' chambers one morning, ridden with the flu and close to hallucinating because of his fever. Gaius took him in without question, of course, but this put Older Merlin in the uncomfortable position of giving up all his sleeping and living space.

However, if any changes had been wrought on Merlin's character in fifteen years, first on the list was a deep, perceptive _shrewdness_ that knew exactly what to do with the situation. With some contribution from Gaius, a formal request was put in to Uther to temporarily move Older Merlin to residence within the castle.

It couldn't be Older Arthur, because people might confuse him with the also-resident Prince Arthur, and it couldn't be Young Merlin, because of course Gaius needed his apprentice to help with the new patient. But while three may be company, four's a crowd, and having Older Merlin around simply wouldn't do. It was the castle or nothing, Gaius told the King. But it was all for Jonathan's sake, of course. Too many hands proved too many distractions, and one wrong slip and the boy's life could be in danger. It was for the patient's sake. It had absolutely nothing to do with Merlin gaining unpermitted access to locked archives in the middle of the night without crossing the wide open courtyard to scour hidden rooms of illegal books that would hopefully solve their magically-inflicted space continuum problem via advice from two long-gone time traveling sorcerers.

It was for the patient's sake. Naturally.

Begrudgingly, Uther relented. Perfect shrewdness would have disallowed Merlin from celebrating his victory, but then, even Emrys had never been perfect. His smile was only outdone by Gaius' emphatic eyeroll at his antics. As he gathered a few supplies from Gaius chambers (mostly medicines for himself) Merlin came around and tapped his younger self on the shoulder.

"Here," he said, shoving a vile into his own hand, "repeat after me: _hande rice-"_

"Wait," Young Merlin looked at the vial, confused, "What is this?"

"Borrower's Brew."

"_What_?"

Merlin looked at him and blinked dumbly, his mind running through timelines and trying to rationalize the confusion on his younger self's face. Eventually, he nodded. "Right, haven't done that yet. Sorry. Borrower's brew - It's a, er… potion. It will – temporarily – give me a bit of your magic. I'll need it to sneak into the archives tonight. Only, you need to enchant it first."

Merlin nodded slowly. "Right." Carefully, he repeated the words that his Older self fed him, and soon the deed was done. He handed the vial back to the other Merlin. "Will I be able to feel anything, then, when you do magic?"

Older Merlin frowned. "I don't believe so. At least, I couldn't whenever I made some for Gwaine, years ago."

King Arthur walked in just in time to hear Young Merlin ask, "Who's Gwaine?"

Older Merlin and Arthur shared a look. Merlin sighed again and shook his head. "Haven't done that yet either, then. Nevermind, forget Gwaine." He took the vial from himself and stowed it in a pocket. "Word to the wise, though, when you do meet him, don't let him near wine. Ale, yes, mead, maybe, but not _wine_."

Arthur snorted. "You're one to talk, drunkard."

Older Merlin smiled as though this was some sort of inside joke, and Younger Merlin watched, bewildered. Prince Arthur chose that moment to follow his older self inside.

"Right then, ready to go?" He glanced around and caught the eye of Older Merlin. "You're room's all set up, and Father wants you in as quick as possible, so no one will talk."

Older Merlin said goodbye to his younger self, Gaius, and King Arthur, and took up his staff from where it'd been sitting in a corner. His leg had improved enough so he no longer had to walk about small rooms with it (he hoped it was a sign his magic would begin to recuperate, too) but longer treks required the aid of a walking stick. He let Prince Arthur lead the way up into the castle and to the residence suites. Merlin's presence garnered a good deal more attention than it had when they'd been sneaking around at night. Now, out in the open, being led through the busy castle by the prince, people were beginning to stare. A _lot. _Merlin sighed and wished he had a hood to pull up over his face. Arthur seemed to catch on, and walked as quickly as he could until they reached a set of rooms that Merlin knew were reserved for guests.

"God, you'd think you were _royalty_, the way they're staring," Arthur said once the door clicked shut.

Merlin smiled. "I don't blame them. Isn't every day there's two of someone walking about the castle." Arthur twitched an eyebrow, taking the point, and gestured around the room.

"Right, well… Bed. Fireplace. Cupboards – I assume you might have learned how to use them?" Merlin didn't want to laugh at the ancient joke, but humored the prince's outdated sense of humor and smiled anyway. "Someone will bring up your dinner tonight, and breakfast tomorrow."

"Oh, breakfast in bed, I _am _royalty, aren't I?"

"Something a bit _less,_ I'm afraid. My father doesn't want you out of here if he can help it."

Merlin sniffed and looked around. "Still, a _cushy_ prison, at least."

Arthur sighed wearily. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid there isn't much I can do about that. Still, I thought you might want this." He tossed a heavy cloak at Merlin, who caught it. "At very least, it'll give you _some_ cover when you decide to make a break for it."

Merlin smiled and folded the cloak up on his bed. "Thank you, Arthur." Arthur nodded awkwardly, and their conversation lulled. Eventually, the prince shrugged and headed for the door. Before he could leave, however, a thought hit him and he turned.

"Oh, and Merlin?"

"Hmm?"

"If… _when _you go sneaking about tonight… just… don't let anyone see you." And Merlin's heart warmed the tiniest bit at that familiar but sorely missed _concern_ in the Prince's voice.

"Have a little faith, Arthur. I _can_ be sneaky if I want to be, I told you that."

Arthur didn't even look unconvinced this time, just worried. He nodded anyway, and left without another question.

Morgana watched with growing horror as Merlin was lead through the castle. It didn't take her long to figure out what was happening. _Merlin? Older Merlin? Here, in the castle?_ She grit her teeth. Lady Le Fey was right. He _was_ a meddlesome idiot, wasn't he? She growled under her breath and followed him and Arthur through the corridors as quickly and as unobtrusively as possible. She stopped when they reached the guest wing and Arthur ushered Merlin into one of the visitor's suites.

Merlin, in the castle, closer to her, to her _work_. Surely he would interfere. Surely he would – no. She made herself stop thinking about it, and resolved herself to use these new developments to her advantage. If anything, this Older Merlin had shown a certain… inclination about what was going on. She would watch him closely, allow him to be her ally - albeit an unwitting ally.

Allowing herself a small smirk, Morgana tilted up her head and stalked away, forming a plan in her mind of how to use the newcomer's presence to her best ability.

* * *

><p>It was actually Gwen who appeared that night with his dinner. She peaked her head in and smiled, before coming in fully, bearing a steaming pot of stew.<p>

"Guinevere," Merlin said fondly, and didn't realize how much his smile did to put the serving girl at ease, "I'm surprised to see you," He said. She smiled.

"A bit unorthodox, perhaps, but none of the other servants would go anywhere near you." She realized what she said and looked alarmed. "I mean, because you scare them. No," She closed her eyes and blushed, "Unnerve them. You know, you being here, it's just a bit… because you're not really,"

"I think I understand," he forestalled her with a gentle smile. She flashed a quick grin back. "but shouldn't you be tending to Morgana?"

A hurt look crossed her face. "Lady Morgana isn't very demanding these days," and it didn't sound like that was a good thing, "not at all. I'm free most evenings, so I volunteered to help with your meals." She looked down at the aromatic dish she'd brought with her, and opened it to let out a cloud of steam. "Beef and leek. Not too fancy, but there're enough herbs in there to make up for it. My father loved to use spices, he taught me a few recipes."

Merlin inhaled deeply, appreciating the smell that made his mouth water. "You made this?"

She blushed. "Cook helped," she said.

"I'm honored, Gwen, thank you." He took up a bowl and reached over the table to spoon out a portion. As he did so, Gwen couldn't help but notice his wedding band again. She stood there staring at it, and he mistook her silence as hunger.

"Would you like to join me for dinner? Lord knows your better company than Arthur after he's been cooped up for a week." She snapped visibly out of her thoughts and smiled.

"Oh, no, I shouldn't, I have chores to-"

"Gwen," he said and she looked up, "Please. I know it's… odd, but we're friends. I need some company." And he might have sounded a bit more pathetic than he would have liked, but Gwen relented, and sat down with him to eat. After a few moments, she found herself staring at his ring finger again, and eventually just had to ask.

"Is she nice?"

Merlin stopped midbite, nonplussed. "Sorry?" he twisted confused eyebrows at her

Gwen blushed, and pointed noncommittally at Merlin's hand. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't help but notice your… is she nice?"

Merlin caught on, and glanced down at the ring. "Ah," He said, a bit flustered. "Well, yes, I'd say so."

Gwen bit her lip but couldn't help herself. "Do I know her?"

Merlin smiled a bit. "No, not yet," he sounded amused.

She wanted to ask more, but stopped herself and ate in silence for a moment or two. Then another question started burning at her lips.

"And, um… I also noticed… That is, Arthur, he's married too, in the future, isn't he?"

Merlin suddenly froze, and gently lowered his spoon back into his stew. "Yes," he said carefully. Gwen tried to keep her face plain.

"And is she… is _she _nice?"

And then Merlin gave her this _look_, one that was unnerving and comforting and strange. "Why are you asking me this?" He asked, not unkindly.

She shrugged. "I just… wondered. If he was… if he was happy."

"He is, that."

"Oh. Good." She fiddled with her fingers before blurting out, "Is she good to him? Kind? …nice?"

And then came that smile again, and that _look_. "Yes to all, and much, much more." Merlin said. "They are both very happy, wonderful people. Well, Arthur's always a prat, but his wife is lovely all the time." Merlin turned back to his stew.

They were quiet for a while, Gwen away in her own thoughts, her heart sunken in her chest. At least he was happy, she tried to tell herself. But then why wasn't she? "Do I… do I know her, yet?" Gwen asked quietly. Merlin looked up at her and just looked, for a while. He seemed to wrestle with himself before saying,

"I'm not sure that you do," he said, and she felt disappointed. "You might have seen her once or twice. You'll be getting to know her soon enough, but won't know that it's _her_ until later."

"How will I know?" She had to ask. Merlin's smile was secretive.

"You'll figure it out. She's an angel. Wonderful, kind, smart, able, confident… though I don't know if she knows that yet." He paused when Gwen's face suddenly started showing signs of jealousy. "And don't worry, you'll like her. The two of you are close friends, in the future."

"Truly?"

He couldn't help it when his smile widened. "Truer than I can say."

* * *

><p>AN: I had originally planned more for this chapter, but I think this will do for now. Hope you enjoyed it! Again, I'm sorry about the delay, and I hope to begin posting more often, professors and homework willing.

NOTE: If anyone is wondering, the 'Borrower's Brew' potion is a nod to another one of my stories, _A Friend in Need_.


	18. Knowledge is Power

Arthur was sitting at his desk, feet propped up on the table, twirling a quill in his fingers absently. He was supposed to be writing a report to present to the council that evening about the new time-travelers in Camelot. However, the subject had gotten him thinking, which had stopped him from writing, which had given him opportunity to watch Merlin from across the room. Alright, _watching_ might not have been accurate. If Merlin were conscious of the attention enough to look over at the prince, he would probably labeled the expression with a word more like _glaring_. Still, it wasn't an exactly threatening stare. Unsettling, yes, but not threatening.

As it was, Merlin couldn't have had an opinion either way, because he was too busy sticking his nose beneath Arthur's bed in search of dirty laundry. Eventually, Arthur's thoughts came to a head and he broke the silence in the room,

"Merlin?"

The manservant in question bumped his head lightly as he straightened up. "Hmm?" He asked, sorting a pile of trousers and socks.

"What do you think about magic?"

Merlin nearly choked on his shock. He looked down at his armful of laundry with wide eyes. He would never mention to Arthur that he would associate dirty laundry with questions on magic for the next two fortnights. "Magic?" He asked, trying to remain calm, "Why do you ask?"

"Something Merlin… Future _You_ said to me earlier."

Merlin's heart was beating fast. What had he _done_? "What did he say?"

"You haven't answered the question, _Mer_lin."

_Damn_. "Uh, well, I…" He stopped suddenly and looked up at Arthur. The prince was watching him expectantly, but Merlin wanted to make sure whatever he was about to say, he said it right. "Magic…" he sighed. "I know it's… illegal, and all…"

"Laws aside," Arthur got this strange look on his face, "what do you think of it?"

"Laws aside?" Merlin aside, eyebrows high.

"Yes." Arthur paused, and then added somewhat thoughtfully, "Whatever you say won't hurt you, Merlin."

_Don't be so sure about that,_ he thought, but said: "Well, I think that… magic's not nearly so bad as people think," and he thought it sounded lame. Arthur's brows twitched up.

"Not so bad?" He asked incredulously. "Nimueh? Morgause? Sigan? _Dragon attack?_ Any of those ring a little bell, Merlin?"

Merlin flushed in anger, although Arthur saw it as embarrassment. "Yes, they're all people, Arthur. Magic people, but people, nonetheless." When he saw Arthur didn't understand his point, he lowered his voice seriously and explained: "They all had personal reasons for attacking Camelot. They were out for blood, vengeance. _That_ is what makes them evil, _that_ is what makes them our enemies. The magic… well, it's just the power they use to get their vengeance. It'd be all the same to us if they were warlords, or foreign armies, or even princes like you. The magic doesn't really have anything to do with their being evil." He finished and turned away, not willing to look back at the prince. He sorted clothing in silence until Arthur said,

"You're saying that magic isn't evil?"

Merlin bit his lip. "I'm saying… it isn't… it isn't _anything_." He finally looked up, and Arthur was watching him with his face set in deep thought. "Gaius used to practice magic, you know," Merlin said, and the Prince shot him a warning look. Merlin shrugged. "I'm just saying: d'you really think he'd turn evil if he started using healing spells again?" And Arthur looked like he was about to cut Merlin off, but the servant mustered some boldness and continued, "Arthur, the man has dedicated his life to helping people. And I don't care how many deranged sorcerers and vengeful monsters you throw at me, there is nothing that could convince me magic in the hands of man like Gaius could ever be _bad_."

When Arthur just sat there, staring at him, Merlin felt a blush rise to his cheeks as he realized just _how close _they were to _his_ topic. How close he could have been, just now, to revealing his secret. To being _killed. _Eventually, Arthur nodded, and sat back, looking thoughtful. Merlin watched him carefully for a while. When he remained silent and picked up his quill to resume writing, Merlin finally asked,

"What _did _my older self tell you, anyway?"

Arthur was scribbling away, but when he caught Merlin staring, looked up. "What _are_ you standing there for? I'll need my robes cleaned for council meeting tonight," which was as good as a dismissal. Merlin pursed his lips and glared, but obediently gathered the laundry together and left the Prince's room, wondering what, exactly, might have been going through Arthur's head.

* * *

><p>It was actually during the council meeting itself when Older Merlin decided to make his move. The nobles – including Geoffrey – were all away in the great hall in council. The castle staff were busy providing them with their food, and perhaps most importantly, the guards always let down their defences around dusk: full on dinner and near the end of their shifts, they became easy to sneak past.<p>

He donned his cloak and snuck out of his quarters a half hour or so after he heard the castle bells chime six o'clock. From there, it was easy work to make his way down to the archives. The hardest bit, he found, was making his staff look as inconspicuous as possible. It'd been rather loud for the first leg of his journey, but then he'd remembered with some glee that he had a small amount of magic to tap into. He muffled the staff's impact with a word, and couldn't help but smile like an idiot at the wonderful rush of magic that came with it. God bless whoever invented borrower's brew.

He found the archives just as he left them: locked, empty, dusty, and only somewhat organized. He opened the door with some more slight magic, and let himself into the collection of spell books. He lit the torches, and dove right back into searching.

The rest of the night was a lonely one. Merlin wasn't unaccustomed to long hours researching in his library, but back home, he had a family to give him needed conversation, friends to pop by and make sure he was eating and sleeping. Deep in the archives in a quiet and unfamiliar world, it was enough to make even a seclusion-prone warlock lonesome.

He'd picked out a few texts which he found vague references to time travel, and one in the Old Tongue that had some spells that looked useful. He suspected that they had nothing to do with time travel, and more to do with a time-slowing spell that had become one of his favorites as a youth, but Merlin took them up anyway to follow all possible leads.

He'd been about ready to call it a night when he came across something that piqued his interest. It was a small book, but it looked eerily familiar. He picked it up and studied it, soft leather cover, stained pages, bound by a leather cord. He squinted at it, and then suddenly remembered why he knew it: Morgana had been holding this book, when she left the archives days ago. Blinking, he mentally re-ran the memory of that moment, and nodded to himself as he confirmed it as the same volume.

But why was Morgana – _youn_g Morgana, taking magic books from the forbidden section of the archives? And perhaps more importantly, why was she putting them _back_?

Curious, Merlin undid the binding and folded back the cover. When he saw the first page, he thought his heart might have stopped. There, handwritten in ink:

_Herein is contained the personal life, work, and studies of Eoran Golcar_

* * *

><p>When Gaius and Merlin returned to their chambers after council meeting, they found not one, but <em>two <em>time travelers waiting for them, and the one with the dark hair looked positively _giddy_.

The story was out of Merlin's mouth in a jumbled mess of words in under minute, before either Gaius or his younger self could question his presence. Thankfully, King Arthur was there to translate, and by the time they'd gotten the word across and Merlin had shown Gaius the journal, they were huddled around Gaius' table in a circle of lively conversation.

"You say _Morgana_ had it with her?" Gaius asked, flipping the pages almost reverently.

"Yes. I don't know why, yet, but I'm… curious. If she did find it,"

"Then she knows about this time travelling business," Young Merlin put in.

"_And_ she's decided to disregard whatever this Eoran fellow has to say on the matter."

Older Merlin grunted. "Or, she's found what she was after and had no further use for his advice."

"Speaking of, what _does_ he say about time travel?" Gaius asked.

"I don't know yet," Merlin took the journal back. "I haven't read it yet. But don't worry, plenty of time to read when you're imprisoned." He made a face. "If you could believe it, I think it's harder to escape from Uther's _house _than it is his _dungeons_."

Younger Merlin snorted, Arthur smiled, but Gaius remained unmoved from their topic.

"If she _did_ find whatever she was looking for in this journal, do you suppose she'll… try anything?"

Merlin bit the side of his lip. "Maybe," He said at length, "but I don't know what. I have no idea what she could be planning." He made a face an shook his head. "And _young_ Morgana, too, I don't have an idea how _she _got wrapped up in all this."

"It's no secret to the castle that you have travelled through time," Gaius said, shrugging. "Perhaps she was curious."

"Perhaps, but even then: how did she get the book? How did she know what to look for? And why would wouldn't she just _keep_ the journal after all she must've done to obtain it?"

"Do you think it's _Our_ Morgana?" Arthur asked quietly. All eyes turned to him. "In disguise, I mean?"

Merlin seemed to consider it, but shook his head. "No… No, I don't think so. Morgana is a good actress, but I don't think she knew herself well enough in this time to reenact the part now." He frowned. "No, it's young Morgana, of that I am sure."

"Merlin is right," Gaius said, "I've been keeping a close eye on her as of late, as you might have guessed. If it is an act, it is a seamless one, from before you arrived until now."

Arthur was frowning deeper. "So then she – _young_ Morgana – she's a concern now, too?"

"Her interests could be harmless," Gaius tried to be optimistic, even though he new it was useless.

"She did try to kill me – er, Merlin," Young Merlin put in. His older self nodded.

"But how?" Arthur sat up and raised his hands in a shrug. "how did she learn about time travel so quickly, narrow down a source, gather information, and do it all without us noticing? It's all we've been doing for two and a half weeks, and we've only _just_ been able to break through, with four people on the job – two of us from the future! You'd think it'd be a simpler job than a single noblewoman working on her own."

"You'd think," Older Merlin muttered, staring at nothing in particular. His eyebrows were low over his eyes.

"You don't suppose…" Young Merlin began, and stopped, unsure of how to explain his idea. "that… Morgana – _our_ Morgana, _young_ Morgana – you don't suppose that she's somehow gone into cahoots with _herself_, do you? Her _older_ self?"

The silence was deafening. Merlin met the gaze of his older counterpart, and knew suddenly that he was right. He felt his stomach fall out.

"No," King Arthur was shaking his head. "No, she wouldn't have had the time. She couldn't have possibly been persuaded to someone else's side in that short of a time,"

"Even if it was _her own_?" Gaius asked.

"No, I know her, she'd be suspicious for _weeks_ before she'd agree to anything."

"She might have had weeks," Merlin muttered. Arthur rounded on him.

"_What?"_

"When we first arrived here, it was because I interrupted her spell. The whole reason we passed out when we landed was because we didn't go with Morgana all the way. We were thrown out of her transportation spell too early." He paused. "She could have gone back farther, fostered an… an agreement with her younger counterpart."

Gaius was frowning. "Well, if that is the case, she has not been seen in Camelot. If she was here, she is gone now, or else hiding very keenly."

"But she _could_ have had the time to recruit our Morgana?" Young Merlin asked.

"If she _is_ in concert with herself, why on _earth _would she do the heavy lifting when she's got a nigh all-powerful witch on her side? I _know_ Morgana, and she would sooner launch a conquest on her own castle than sit around and read_ books_ all day." Arthur still looked unconvinced.

"A bargaining chip," Older Merlin said. "She's been promised something, in return for her work."

Arthur scoffed. "Why would you _bargain_ with _yourself_? It's absurd!"

"Yes," Merlin said, his theme growing, "unless she _doesn't know_ who it is."

Arthur opened his mouth, but was hit by a sudden expression of surprise, and only stared instead. A silent conversation of looks passed between king and Warlock.

"But… Where _is_ the older Morgana?" Young Merlin felt the need to ask.

"I don't know," Older Merlin said. "But if she's working through her younger self, we'll need to tread lightly. One Morgana is shrewd enough. Two…?" He looked over at Arthur. The king sighed heavily and shook himself.

"Tread lightly, indeed. And what will you do about this book?" He gestured to the journal still sitting in the middle of the table.

"Read it," Merlin said easily. "If she did find what she was looking for in here, I'd surely like to know what Eoran has to say." He took the book and pocketed it. "Knowledge is power."

"In that case, we'll need all the knowledge we can get," Arthur said, and added under his breath: "in the hopes that she won't have more."

Young Merlin sent the king a worried glance, and looked back to himself for confirmation. Older Merlin was looking off into nowhere, his expression strangely sad. Young Merlin frowned, wanting to comment, but didn't.

Gaius was the first to rise from the table. "So get to it straightaway." He glanced out the window, which was dark. "You'll be wanting to head back to your _cell_, too, before Uther sicks his guard dogs on you."

Merlin jumped out of his trance and forced a smile. "Of course. I'll be in touch." He rose, donned his cloak once more, and slunk back off to the castle. After he was gone, Arthur rose from his seat.

"I suppose the only upside of having two of Morganas skulking around is that we've got one better."

Merlin looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

Arthur gave him a smile. "We've got two of _you_." He slapped him on the back and headed to Merlin's room to his cot.

Merlin wasn't sure that made him feel any better.


	19. Research and Insomnia

**A/N: **Hey, guys! I didn't mean to be away from this story for so long, but I've had a busy homework schedule as of late, and am actually currently suffering from a sudden, nasty cold. However, since raspy voices and a disgusting amount of nose-blowing don't translate into the written word (unless something goes horribly, _horribly_ wrong) the bed-ridden-ness has given me an excuse to write something that _isn't_ for one of my classes.

Also, need I mention it?

_MERLIN STARTS TOMORROW._

_**TOMORROW.**_

*fangirl screeches*

Enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

><p>Morgana had been scrying on Merlin all afternoon. He'd slept rather late into the day, which proved frustrating for her. She was a naturally impatient person, but seeing as the entire burden of progress had been transferred (albeit unwittingly) onto the Older Merlin's shoulders, patience was a necessity. Even after he'd woken up and finally picked up the journal, it was impossible to tell what he thought about it all. He didn't speak, only hunched over on his bed, journal in his lap, turning a page every few minutes.<p>

She sighed, waved her hand, and the image dissolved from her mirror.

She hadn't told Lady Le Fey of her new plans. She had told Lady Le Fey of how she found the journal, but she _hadn't_ told her of the… problems that she'd run into understanding it. However, Lady Le Fey nearly incessantly spoke to Merlin's – that is, _Emrys'_ (wherever he got that name) cleverness and shrewd way of dealing with obstacles. She figured, so long as he thought he was working for _his own_ benefit, she could use his insights to help her to her own ends. But she would not be stupid about it. She would keep a close eye on him the whole time.

Only, for now, there simply wasn't much to see.

* * *

><p>Hunch-backed and legs folded, Merlin had his eyebrows set in a strange half-squiggle and was fingering his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. He wasn't conscious of the fact, but it was how he always appeared when he was reading, particularly when he was researching. More conscious to Merlin's concentration habits, King Arthur had tiptoed into the room, put a kettle on the fire, and made a tray of tea all before Merlin so much as glanced at him.<p>

"So," He asked at length, and Merlin's head shot up in surprise at the sound of his voice. Arthur set down the tray on the bed across from his friend, who rather quickly rationalized the fact that Arthur had been there for some time, and asked, "what've you found so far?"

Merlin sighed and took a cup of tea. "It's interesting, but slow going. This man is methodical, if anything. Sorcerer or not, he's a brilliant scientist. Records nearly everything that happens. He's mentioned Earnan several times, an assistant of sorts in his experiments."

"Experiments?" Arthur asked, sipping at his own tea. "With magic?"

"Mostly. Nothing on time travel yet, though. Although…" He flipped a few pages forward, "I think he's beginning to ask the right questions for it. We'll see what happens."

Arthur nodded, and asked after a minute, "When was this written?"

Merlin flipped a few pages. "Back in the three-hundreds… Each entry is dated, each just a few days apart. Like I said, methodical."

"That's good, right?"

"Oh, yes, it just means I'll have a lot of reading on my hands. He's got small handwriting, you see." Merlin turned the journal so Arthur could look at it. The king's eyebrows rose.

"Neat, at least."

"Mmm, very. Meticulous nature, thorough, and detail-oriented. All good traits for a scientist, especially one who experiments with magic. Still, it's made out for some rather dry reading."

"Ah," Arthur looked around the room. "Want some company? I could bring some lunch up here."

"No, that's fine… and… how did you manage to get here, anyway? I thought you were chained up somewhere in Gaius' chambers?"

Arthur snorted. "Chains aren't Gaius's style. At any rate, my father is apparently still quelling the results of last night's council meeting, and is too distracted to notice me here." He sniffed. "Besides, your younger self has been walking on eggshells around me since yesterday."

Merlin frowned. "Why?"

"I don' t know. It's sudden. I think he and Arthur must've had a row or something."

"But why hold you responsible?"

"Maybe it was about us."

Merlin frowned. "If I see him, I'll ask him about it. Speaking of, how's Arthur?"

King Arthur frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I can't help but feel that… he's a bit…" he shrugged. "out of it, all this. Because he doesn't know about… well, you know…"

"Your magic, you mean."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "There is a _reason_ I didn't say it out loud _in the castle_, but yes, of course that's what I mean."

Arthur shrugged. "I'm not sure. He tends to avoid me – I can't really blame him – but I wonder sometimes if he has any idea… You haven't told him, have you?"

"Of course not. Although, I did tell him I've _studied_ magic."

"What?" Arthur looked surprised. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"Arthur," Merlin said rationally, "I was helping him research in _magic books_. I was reading text in the _Old Tongue_. I couldn't possibly deny it."

The king nodded. "Still… I know you probably think I was utterly stupid back then – now, whatever, for not realizing that you had magic, but… Arthur is quite clever. He _could_ figure it out, you know."

Merlin didn't say anything, and Arthur took that as an agreement, and continued, "And if he _does_, it could change an awful about this… this world, like you were telling me, making it all the harder for us to get back. You need to be careful about what you say."

Merlin sighed in frustration. "You know, I was trying _so_ hard to forget about that."

"Right, sorry." Arthur looked contritely down at his tea. Merlin went back to his reading, and when his eyebrows resumed their intense twist and his fingers found their way back to his mouth, Arthur finished off his tea and stood. "Right, then, I'll leave you to it." And although Merlin didn't hear him through his trance of concentration, Arthur stopped at the door and added, "Good luck, old friend."

* * *

><p>Merlin rubbed at his eyes. Even after sleeping in and not bothering to change from his night clothes, spending all his waking hours engrossed in Eoran's research was sapping his energy.<p>

The vast majority of the entries were purely devoted to Eoran's experiments, but Merlin had enjoyed some small glimpses into his personal life. There was a small series of entries during which Eoran was bedridden with an illness, and had occupied himself by writing about his days and the books he'd been reading to pass the time. Other, short entries in between experiments spoke more on his surroundings and environment. He spoke often of his younger brother, Earnan, who he'd practically raised after both their parents' lives were taken by a sickness. His mother, a sorceress, was the reason Eoran and Earnan both had magic. Although his father did not have magic, Eoran recalled that he had loved his wife and sons dearly. It was an image that touched Merlin's heart, because it was the type of magic and non-magic interactions that he'd dreamed of since childhood. The two brothers had apparently lived on a small homestead with some livestock on the edge of a village in the area that would become Cenred's kingdom (although it was not Ealdor, Merlin was secretly disappointed to learn) and led a mostly quiet life. Earnan was happy to use his magic to assist the villagers as they needed it, and Eoran found their quiet, secluded surroundings a perfect place to practice (and experiment) with various forms of magic. Eoran often lamented the troubles he went through to acquire quality magic books (and it was a predicament Merlin was all too familiar with) but managed to make do. The man was a genius, Merlin had decided, and performed much of his own research purely out of his own initiative. He was logical, rational, and driven. And although Eoran obviously loved his brother, it was easy to tell from the way he spoke of him that Earnan could not be less like him where personality was concerned. Merlin had actually just reached the portion of the book where Eoran had begun to experiment with time travel when a knock on the door broke him from his concentration. He sat up with a start and looked over to see his younger self standing in the doorway.

"Sorry," the boy smiled at him, "I came to bring you this," He held out a bottle of the medication that Gaius had been brewing for him.

"Yes, of course, thank you." Merlin shook himself and took the medicine. He actually _had _begun to feel himself recovering, lately, but was still unable to perform magic. He set the bottle aside.

"Have you found anything so far?" Younger Merlin asked inquisitively, peeking over at the book Older Merlin still had in his lap.

"A bit, not too much yet, but getting there." He rubbed his face, and frowned when he saw something on his younger face. "What happened to your eye?"

Merlin straightened and touched his face. "Oh," He blushed. "Ah, well, _Arthur_ happened."

"Oh," Older Merlin said in understanding. "Which was it this time – the goblet or the boot?"

"Neither, actually," the boy responded, "He's growing more creative; a half-eaten apple."

Older Merlin winced in sympathy, but said nothing. Younger Merlin began to awkwardly shuffle out of the room, but his older self stopped him before he could leave. "Merlin?"

"Hmm?" He turned back.

"It's been a bit lonely cooped up in here all day – care to join me for a bit?"

"I, uhm… alright." Merlin turned around and shut the door, before coming to sit awkwardly at the foot of his older self's bed. Older Merlin had marked his place in Eoran's journal and tied up the leather strap around it.

"Arthur tells me you're upset about something," he said, not looking up. He paused in what he was doing. "Well, not exactly that. He said you've been 'walking on eggshells' since yesterday. Of course I know that means _something _is bothering you." He set the journal on his nightstand and turned back to himself with a soft expression. "Is something wrong?"

Younger Merlin chewed on his lip and squirmed, but eventually confessed, "It's Arthur. He's… he's been asking me questions about magic."

Older Merlin tried to keep his expression clear. "What kind of questions?"

"Just… _about_ it. It's so out of the blue, yesterday he asked me what I thought about magic. When I asked him why he wanted to know, he said that it was something _you_ had said to him." He wrung his hands. "What _did_ you say to him?"

Older Merlin watched himself and sighed. "I told him I studied magic." Merlin stiffened and sucked in a startled breath, and so he made quick to say, "I didn't tell him I _was_ magic – in fact, he asked me if I could do magic, and I said no. Which, I can't, when you think about it." Young Merlin looked almost annoyed, but shrugged and nodded.

"But… why tell him?

"We were researching magic. How could he not ask about it? I couldn't lie to him." And Merlin only realized how much that must have stung after he said it. Realizing his mistake, he added too late, "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," younger Merlin said. "It's good to know that one day I'll be able to think that way."

Older Merlin smiled. "You can go ahead and think that way with _my_ Arthur, you know."

"I know, but… It's… hard. To even imagine it, you know?"

"I do. Very well. Don't worry about it, it'll come." Merlin watched his younger self for a moment, then added, "he was worried, is all. He does do that, occasionally, I don't know if you know."

"I do. A little bit."

Merlin smiled. "That'll come, too." There was a pause, and Older Merlin heaved a sigh. "Very well. I think I'm very near to finding out what Eoran's discovered about this time travel business, but unfortunately, I need sleep first." He looked up at his younger self. "Look out for Arthur while I'm cooped up in here, would you? Both of him. He's not nearly as much of a clotpole as he makes himself out to be most the time. Really a bit soft on the inside."

"Well _that_ comes across well," Merlin rubbed his black eye. Older Merlin chuckled.

"I never said he wasn't a prat on the outside."

"And rough around the edges."

"That's why you're there to polish him up. Gwen'll help, too."

Merlin got a very curious look in his eye. "Gwen?"

"Oh, no, I've said too much. Forget I said that?" But there was no stopping the smile that had appeared on Young Merlin's face.

"Don't think I can, but I won't mention it to either of them, if that's what you mean."

Merlin shook his head. "Good enough. Now, you need sleep too. Off you get," And even though it was _himself_, Merlin just couldn't shake the feeling that he was talking to his son. It was a disconcerting, but strangely… _fond_ feeling.

"Of course. Goodnight, Merlin,"

"Sleep well, Merlin."

The door shut softly, and Merlin turned back to his bed. He spotted Eoran's journal sitting on the small table, and it was practically singing to him to read it. He shook himself. "No, no, need sleep. Sleep first, read later. Sleep first, read later." He snuffed the candles and climbed under the covers. Sleep. He _needed _sleep. Even warlocks needed their rest. Especially warlocks with the lapses. _Especially _warlocks with the lapses who needed to figure out time travel. Time travel. Eoran. Eoran wrote about time travel. In his journal. Which was sitting, right there, on the table, within reach, with all the answers…

_No! Sleep first!_

Merlin tossed and turned restlessly for what might have been hours, or minutes. It was still dark when he finally gave up with a sigh.

"Oh, damn it all."

He relit the candle and picked up Eoran's journal.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Now, when one is as lazy as I am and doesn't bother writing an outline to the story one is writing, one always ends up wishing they could take back and/or change bits of their story as they go further into the plot. I've run into this self-inflicted problem several times, and although usually I just work around it, in this case, I actually _will_ amend something I said earlier on in the story. It's a small detail, but I thought I should mention it:

(Kudos to you if you actually remember this) Way back in chapter 14, at the very end, I noted that Eoran was _younger_ than Earnan. I've modified this and swapped their ages. I will change that reference in chapter 14 once I upload this chapter. Just thought I'd let you know! Editorial detail!

Hope you all enjoyed it!

Happy Series 5 premiere! (can you believe it's finally here?!)


	20. A New Lead

**A/N:** Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry about that. I've lost a lot of motivation for writing after Merlin started airing earlier this month. (I know, so backwards isn't it?) But today I found a window of opportunity when my least favorite class of the day was cancelled (hurrah!) and I had plenty of coffee too keep me toasty whilst I did… something. Writing was the logical choice.

So, on with the update!

* * *

><p>Thank God for the fact that Merlin had woken up late, which had made him late to wake up Arthur, which made <em>Arthur<em> late for training, which made Arthur angry, which made Arthur give Merlin extra chores, which kept Merlin holed up in Arthur's chambers trying very hard not to get hit with something, which made him leave the prince's rooms at very odd hour and in a very odd direction, which meant that it was _he_ who was strolling down the hall past Older Merlin's room when it happened.

For surely, if anyone else had heard the man screaming, there would have been a dozen guards and very possibly an angry king breaking down his door. As it was, his only audience was himself. His very confused, very startled, very bewildered younger self.

"You alright in there?" Younger Merlin let himself in warily. Older Merlin was seated on his bed, sheets and quilt wrapped up around him like a messy cloak growing out of his bed, hair a mess, eyes dark and wild.

"No!" he screamed, slamming something down in his lap, "No, you can't end _there_!"

"Merlin?" Merlin called. Older Merlin's head shot up to him, noticing the boy for the first time.

"Merlin! Thank God!" He tried to get out of bed, but tripped on his sheet-cloak and tumbled out instead. "Where's Gaius? And Arthur? – Old Arthur, that is." He straightened up and cracked his neck.

"Well, uhm, in their rooms, at least, last I saw of them… and… have you been up _all_ night?"

"Maybe," Merlin said, picking up a cup of tea that Merlin thought might have been cold. He downed it in one. There were at least five already used cups lying empty on the tea tray.

"Doing _what_?"

"Reading," Merlin coughed around a spittle of tea, "at least I _was_, until Eornan decided to end it _there_, sneaky bastard." He glared at the book lying innocently on his bed. "Though I can't really blame him. Time travel, dangerous stuff. Crossing temporal lines is dangerous enough in experimentation, but to leave a solid portal equation lying about for all to use would've been plain stupid – of course he would intelligent enough to choose a anchoring point and hide the rest, what with all the Morganas flitting about in his research-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Merlin said, looking around himself distractedly. He picked up his jacket and put it on. "well, something. But that's not the point. We have a lead, I need a staff, and if you have any fears of the Valley of the Fallen Kings, you'd best be off them quickly. Where _is_ Gaius?" He stormed toward the door. Young Merlin watched on in confusion as his counterpart buttoned his tunic and straightened his collar, but seemed oblivious to his horrible bed hair and walked from the chamber still in his night trousers, shoeless. Blinking dubiously, Merlin supposed his ought to follow his older self. As he jogged to catch up, he wondered how he would ever end up going so mental.

* * *

><p>"Wait a minute," Arthur held out his hand to stay the flow of ramble from Merlin's mouth, "so you're saying you've <em>figured out time travel?<em>" He asked incredulously.

"Yes." Merlin answered easily, tapping his bare feet against the floor.

"That's it?"

"That's it." There was a pause. "_Well,_ not entirely. But, yes."

Arthur and Gaius shared a look. Young Merlin looked almost embarrassed for himself. "What do you mean, 'not entirely'?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms.

"Well, I know the _concept_. I don't know the specifics, because Eornan – quite intelligently – hid them away. But I know how to get to them."

"How do you know that?" Gaius asked. Merlin fished around in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a slip of paper.

"This was in the very back of his journal. The last pages have been torn out – probably because they contain the information necessary to create a portal through time. However, this note was left in their place, giving precise instructions of where to go, and what to do."

Arthur frowned. "Alright, then, what are we waiting for?"

"We need a key. See," Merlin unfolded the note and pointed. "to get _in_ to the place where Eornan has hidden away his secrets, we need a key of sorts, a vessel holding immense magical energy, to demonstrate that we actually have the power to safely harness time-vortex energy in the first place. A wise safeguard, when you think about it, especially considering the problems Eornan ran into when he was experimenting."

Arthur glanced over the note, but was still frowning. "Merlin, when you say 'immense' magical energy, exactly how 'immense' are we talking?"

Merlin pursed his lips and shrugged non-committally. "Oh, I'd wager about enough to knock Camelot off the map. Maybe a touch more, if we can manage."

Arthur's brows shot up, and Merlin's eyes were bugging. Gaius mustered a look of surprise, but being Gaius, it was relatively mild in comparison. "Oh, is that all," Arthur scoffed. Merlin seemed unaffectedly cheery.

"Yeah."

"Alright then, _Mer_lin, where do you suppose we get this _vessel?_"

"He's going to help me," Merlin pointed a finger at his younger self. Young Merlin blanched.

"_Me?" _He asked incredulously.

"You do possess massive magical power, Melrin," Gaius said. Older Merlin turned a smile on the physician.

"Oh, nice of you to say so, Gaius, but that's not really what I meant. I _am_ a massive magical vessel in my own right, but I can't really put a portal on myself, or I'd surely be incinerated, or worse, get stuck between times or something. No, I need an outside object, a focus, a place where I can _put_ my magic, to hold it until I need it."

"You need your staff," Arthur said. All heads turned to him. Older Merlin nodded.

"Exactly."

"You two aren't talking about that quarterstaff, are you?" Young Merlin said. His older counterpart snorted. "Good riddance to that thing, no, I'm talking about a _proper_ staff, a _magic_ staff."

"I do still have that Sidhe staff," Merlin offered helpfully. His older self shook his head.

"It's a bit too crude for what we need – after the purge, Sidhe craftsmen went horribly down the drain into unitasking weapons. I need something more versatile. More… familiar." He was sending King Arthur a certain look. Arthur was looking back, figuring out the puzzle. Eventually, his eyes cleared and he rolled his head.

"You aren't."

"What, you think it's a bad idea?"

"Merlin, you _know_ where that blasted tree is, you_ know_ how it was crawling with bandits back when my Father was king."

"And? We'll be fine."

"_We_?"

"Merlin and I."

"And me?"

"No. I need you to stay here with Gaius and make sure no one notices that we've left – especially Morgana."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh, brilliant. So I've got two idiot sorcerers, one who can hardly muster enough magic for a light, the other who's still so willowy and unsure of himself a _unicorn_ could bowl him over - no offense, Merlin – and you expect me to just sit at home and _knit_?"

"Keep watch, actually, totally different than knitting. Though I suppose if you're that enthusiastic, we could get you some-"

"_Mer_lin-"

"What?"

"It's the _Crystal _bloody _Cave_!"

"And I know it's hard for you to grasp, Arthur, but I'm a grown up now and am fully capable of taking care of myself - and my other self - perfectly fine, without your motherish tendencies, and on the second hand-"

"Did he say the Crystal Cave?" Merlin cut into their argument, looking pale. The two time travelers looked in his direction. Merlin's expression softened.

"Yes, he did. Oh, don't look so glum. We're not going inside, if that's what you're worried about. To the top! A nice old elder tree up there, best one in a hundred leagues."

"Elder?" Gaius asked, as if this jogged something in his memory.

Merlin nodded at the older man. "And it's been sucking up magic from the cave since the day it's seed took root." he shook himself, beaming. "Oh, just the thought gets me all tingly. It's an amazing place, buzzing with magic. You'll love it," he told Merlin. Arthur sighed heavily rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"And now you've gone _"tingly_". Merlin, is there a chance you didn't get much sleep last night?"

"Why?"

"Because your idiot is showing."

"Ass."

"King, actually."

"Well, there is that one time, you _did_ have the ears of a-"

"Merlin,"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Right, well," Gaius cut in, feeling the need to break the two up. "Whatever it is you're planning on doing, you'd best be on with it. If you leave now, you might be back before supper tonight. If you wait until late, Uther may grow suspicious."

"Of course," and suddenly anything 'tingly' about Older Merlin left, and he was solemn and serious once more. He glanced down at himself and did a double take. "Why haven't I any shoes on?" He asked the air. Arthur snorted. "No matter," He said, and looked at his younger self. "I'll borrow some of yours, if it's all the same to you. And some trousers. Should still fit." He headed up to Merlin's room without further questioning.

"And where should I tell Arthur you've run off to this time?" Gaius asked his ward.

"The tavern, probably," Arthur offered. Older Merlin let out a bark of laughter from the other room. The king smiled as though this was his reward, but turned to answer more seriously, "I'll take care on that front, Gaius. I've been meaning to speak with him anyway."

"You sure?" Gaius asked.

"I've been avoiding it too long. So yes."

"Yes, adventures with yourself. A good lot of confusion and fun, aren't they?" Merlin emerged, his well-tailored tunic standoffish from his muddy boots and threadbare trousers. "And on that note, Merlin, it's time we took ourself off to play carpenter once again."

Young Merlin frowned. "Again?" he asked.

"What, didn't I mention? This is how we get our staff the first time around."

Arthur watched them go. Confusion, definitely. Fun, however… he sighed. He might need a drink or two after this. "I'll be off to see to… to Arthur, Gaius, if it's all the same to you."

The physician nodded. "Take all the time you need. Only, Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Will they be safe, going to the Crystal Cave? I thought it was in the Valley of the Fallen Kings."

"It is. But they're _Merlin_, and there's two of him. If the ghouls in those parts have learned anything about him by now, I'd think they'd just hightail and run at the first whiff of him." The king turned and left. Gaius was left alone in his chambers. He gave Arthur's last comment a thoughtful shrug, and went around to his work bench. Time travel, magic staffs, portals, two of every young person he cared about, and now his protégée – _both_ of him – was heading off to do lords knew what in the most cursed strip of land within the five kingdoms. But Gaius, far too used to waiting on his young heroes to make it home in at least mostly one piece, could only do as he had done far, far too many times for his liking: wait.

* * *

><p>Arthur waited outside the prince's chambers for what might have qualified as a cowardly amount of time. Eventually, he mustered up his kingly courage, determined to <em>never<em> tell anyone how much he felt like bolting in that moment, and knocked on the door. Hearing _himself_ give permission to enter was another unnerving experience he decided not to dwell on, and he pushed the door open.

"It's about time you were here, and since _when_ did you _knock_?" Prince Arthur asked from behind his dressing screen. King Arthur nodded to himself; of course, Arthur would have just returned from training.

"I'm not Merlin, if that's what you were thinking," King Arthur put in, and took a moment to notice how much deeper and steadier his own voice sounded next to Prince Arthur's. It was odd.

Movement from behind the screen stilled, until there was a rustle of fabric, and Prince Arthur stepped out, adjusting his fresh shirt. He stood and stared awkwardly for a moment before asking, "What are you doing here?"

"Come to tell you Merlin's not going to be up any time soon, actually."

"Why?" Arthur frowned at his older self.

"He's gone off to…" King Arthur bit his lip and twisted it in thought. He wanted to say he could trust his younger self with all this, and knew he wasn't stupid enough to take a garden of lies, but Arthur had to admit (with a great heap of humble pie) that he couldn't tell Prince Arthur what, exactly, Merlin was doing. "he's working on a solution to this whole… time travel thing." He offered at length.

Prince Arthur looked incredulous. _"Merlin_ is?"

"Yes, both of him." As Arthur continued to stare, the King felt he needed to add, "I'm not sure if you've learned yet, he really _is_ quite clever when he wants to be."

Prince Arthur shook himself and turned. "I'm not sure what _your_ Merlin is like, but the one I'm stuck with is an idiot."

"That's what he wants you to think, anyway."

"_Excuse_ me?" Arthur turned, and the King wondered if he'd said too much. He straightened.

"Merlin has always been a bit of a riddle, because he only shows a bit of himself at any given time. You, you've only seen him as a fool."

Prince Arthur looked nonplussed. "But he _is. _ I mean, he's an _idiot_."

"But a brave one."

Arthur sputtered, but said nothing.

"It's strange," King Arthur said, "how the only difference between idiocy and bravery is a matter of success." He let that sink in. "Merlin has always liked taking his chances toeing that line. Give him some room, you might get a better man than you'd bargained for out of him." Prince Arthur was left staring, disturbed but silent, at his older counterpart.

The king raised his eyebrows in the awkward pause that followed. "Food for thought. Though I swear, that's not why I'm here."

"Yes, why _are _you here?" Prince Arthur crossed his arms. The king took a deep breath.

"I really did just come up here to say that Merlin will be gone until dinner."

"Dinner?" Arthur asked, incredulous once more. "That long?"

The king bit his lip. "Yes."

"Doing _what_?"

Arthur stared at him. "Researching," He said, not quite sure if it was a lie or not. He'd be damned if he understood what went into making magic staffs.

The Prince squinted at him. "There's something you're not telling me, what is it?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "There's nothing, it's just I don't completely understand, myself." Which wasn't _quite_ a lie, if 'myself' were to mean younger Arthur himself. Still, the King felt guilty. The Prince frowned at him, but eventually shook his head.

"Whatever. Let me know when he's back, though."

"Of course."

The King moved toward the door. "Oh, and Arthur?"

"What?"

"What does Morgana usually do this time of day?"

The Prince frowned at the question. "Why?"

"Oh, you know, just trying to jog my memory about this time. You'll be surprised how quick the small memories fade." The King bluffed. The Prince looked at him oddly.

"She's usually in the library."

"Ah. Yes, I remember now. Thank you." And the king was off.

The prince watched his older self go with a feeling of irritation. There was _something_ going on here that he was missing. But what? Scowling at his bedspread, Arthur wondered if anyone would ever bother to tell him. If they didn't, he might have to just figure it out himself.


	21. Wonderfully Wrong

**A/N: **Actually not too many chapters left to go, now. Things will begin to heat up next chapter, and wrap up quickly from there. I hope you all will like what I've got in store to square this one off nicely – tell me what you think!

* * *

><p>Merlin wasn't sure what to think about the fact that his older self knew the way to the Crystal Cave by heart.<p>

They'd left Camelot without too much trouble. Although Merlin had been expecting some trouble getting his older self past the guards unseen, the older man had approached gates completely unfazed. Just as Merlin had about to voice his concern, his older self glanced at the guards and his eyes glowed. They lost interest at once, and didn't even question the destination of the two passers-by as they strolled out of the castle gates. Younger Merlin watched them curiously, and shot himself a questioning glance once they were beyond the gates. Older Merlin looked at him sidelong and grinned nervously.

"Attentive redirection," he explained. "Takes practically no energy, and they'll forget we were ever here. It's an addictive little trick. I'm trying to give it up." Young Merlin had to bite back a laugh. Currently, his older self looked like a boy who'd been caught stealing sweet tarts from the windowsill.

After that, their trek to the Cave seemed much shorter than it ought to have been. Merlin had been expecting trouble and dangerous beasts at every turn, as per usual for the Valley of the Fallen Kings, but it never came. Something about Older Merlin's presence made the Valley seem lighter than usual. Although Merlin was practically defenseless with his recovering magic, there was something about him that matched and defeated the gloom of the ancient fog, like he had conquered this place, that he'd claimed ownership here. Younger Merlin wondered quietly if he actually had.

"Here we are," Older Merlin's voice called from ahead, "don't fret yourself with the entrance down there, just follow me up to the top. Watch your step, though, it's a bit narrow." Merlin obeyed, and shortly found himself at the top of a mossy hill. A musical thrum greeted him from the direction where Older Merlin was headed, and he followed. The sound grew to a loud hum, and then a vibration in his chest that spread to his limbs, his head, until he was a wave of power and raw energy that reached out and brushed his magic with an electrifying jolt.

"What _is_ that?" He asked, voice cracking from a sudden dryness. Older Merlin smiled.

"The magic in this tree is as old as the Cave itself," He spoke with great reverence, "but calmer, stable in this old wood." He set a hand fondly against the rutted bark. "We're old friends."

The tree itself didn't look like much. Trapped in beneath a suffocating canopy above, it hadn't grown very tall, and was gnarled in its old age, but its roots were thick with life, eating up at the ground and the magic steeped there. Merlin could feel pools of it beneath his feet, where the roots ran deepest. Older Merlin leaned himself down against the trunk to the ground and sighed contentedly.

"Yes, that's nice. Magic therapy, if ever such a thing existed. I'll just stay here a bit, if it's all the same to you." He closed his eyes and leaned back. Younger Merlin could understand why. The power radiating off of this place felt wonderful, he imagined it must be heaven for his older self, whose magic had been recuperating so slowly. Younger Merlin stepped quietly forward and set a hand on the trunk.

"What kind of tree is it?" He asked. He might've been able to tell normally, but the magic radiating from it was so strong, it distracted from the normal tell-tale signs.

"Elder," Merlin told himself. "the best kind, and solid with age. Perfect for conducting magic," He explained.

"Perfect for a staff, then,"

"Exactly." Merlin smiled.

Young Merlin nodded and rubbed his hand along a branch. "It's very smooth, for being so old," He said. Older Merlin grimaced.

"Aye, for the most part – save for that lightning strike in the back."

Merlin went around the tree and looked. "The what?" He asked confusedly.

"There's a huge charred strip there in the back, isn't there? Lightning, by the look of it. A mercy it didn't kill the tree."

Younger Merlin looked and shook his head. "There's nothing here," He said.

Older Merlin opened his eyes and craned his neck. "Isn't there?" He stood and came around to look over his own shoulder at the unblemished tree bark. "Oh. I suppose it must've happened sometime in the future." He looked at it, and shrugged. "at any rate, we'd best be at our carpentering if we want to leave here before I fall asleep against some old tree. Now." He stood up straight and Young Merlin followed the shift in mood. "We'll need _you_ to perform the enchantment since I'm about useless these days. We just want to knock out a good length of wood, tall enough for a staff – can't take a blade this tree, could hurt it. Just a quick rush of magic to slice out our share. You'll repeat after me. Ready?"

"Ready," Merlin said, looking at the tree.

"Good. Right then: _Ádón anbróce,"_

"_Ádón anbróce,"_

"_Fram æsc,"_

"_Fram æsc,"_

"_þacce,"_

"_Baccel,"_

Older Merlin was already beginning to exclaim that he'd gotten the pronunciation wrong when a huge _CR-CRACK, SNAP _shot across the hillside and the two ducked for cover. When Merlin uncovered his eyes, there was a smoking, staff-sized slice of timber lying at his feet, and the tree itself was smoking as well. When it faded, he could see a long, charred section of bark and a deep black gouge into the tree. Younger Merlin began to apologize immediately, but Older Merlin wasn't listening. He was staring at the ruined bark with a shocked expression on his face. It took Younger Merlin a moment to realize that he wasn't upset.

"That's impossible," Older Merlin said to himself, almost a whisper. "That's… but…" He paused, and then his eyes grew impossibly wide.

"Merlin?" Young Merlin asked his older self cautiously. The older man continued to ignore him, having eyes only for the mark on the tree. It occurred to Merlin that the burn looked incredibly like a lightning strike. He blinked, realizing. Hadn't they _just_ be talking about… but Older Merlin seemed to have already arrived at that point.

"Sweet _Avalon_."

* * *

><p>Arthur had a horrible track record at subtlety, but luckily, when one was a prince in one's own castle, the call for subtle was forgiving, to say the least. Even when one was attempting to spy on someone else.<p>

Of course, spying on _yourself_ was another matter entirely.

Arthur had grown incredibly frustrated. He felt like he'd been strapped into a pair of blinders for the past two weeks, as a plot of research, time travel, and far more magic than he was comfortable with danced around him with the insistence of _trust us_, and _you don't want to know_. But he _did_. He was the prince, damnit, and he wasn't stupid. Whatever this… this _fiasco_ turned out to be, hidden beneath all the escapades and 'research' and 'Merlin's not an idiot' mumbo-jumbo that he'd been spoon-fed for a fortnight, he could take it. He could understand. He _wanted _to. That's why he's started following his older self around after they'd had their chat about Merlin that morning.

The endeavor was a bit awkward, firstly because King Arthur himself had to go to some lengths to sneak around the castle unseen to begin with, whilst Prince Arthur had to make sure it didn't _look _like he was sneaking around his own castle, whilst simultaneously making sure King Arthur didn't see him sneaking around. It was a complicated process. They never prepared you for situations like this in strategy lessons.

As it turned out, Arthur must've developed some boring personality traits as he grew older, because the king took a leisurely amount of time roaming the hallways. To what end, Prince Arthur couldn't guess, but he was fairly sure he hadn't been spotted. Then, King Arthur had headed to the library, and began reading idly for several hours. Prince Arthur nearly fell asleep watching him, and thought about leaving twice, but eventually convinced himself to stay. He hadn't realized that his future self had been watching Morgana – who was sitting on the other side of the room, near the window – until Morgana got up and left near dusk. Older Arthur's eyes had immediately shot up and watched her. When she left, he set down his book and followed her casually. Something irate and shocked flared in Prince Arthur's chest. He was _spying_ on _Morgana?_ For heaven's sakes, _why?_ He wanted to ask, but of course it would have made all this spying business irrelevant, so he didn't. He merely followed and watched.

King Arthur didn't follow Morgana for long. He watched her as far as the hall of her quarters, but once she'd closed the door behind her, he sighed and turned away. Arthur followed himself out into the courtyard, and then on to Gaius' chambers. He didn't follow inside, but stuck his ear up against the door.

"_He's not back yet, then?" _he heard himself ask.

"_No. I'm sure they'll be along shortly. What of Morgana?" _Gaius.

"_Nothing to report. She reads a lot."_

"_The journal?"  
><em>

"_No. Just some book from Geoffrey's stores, so far as I can tell. She's gone up to her chambers." _He heard himself sigh frustratedly. _"It bothers me to think Guinevere is there with her. I wish I could get her out of there, somehow."_

"_On the other hand, Sire, Guinevere's presence should ensure that Morgana can't try anything overt without being noticed." _Arthur frowned, wondering what on earth they were talking about.

"_For now," _King Arthur said. The Prince didn't like the low tone he was using – it sounded almost _dangerous_. The conversation died after that, but Arthur wasn't ready to leave. Quickly, he stood, thought, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Gaius called. He opened the door and hoped he didn't look guilty.

"I've come to see if Merlin's back yet. It's nearly dinner time, isn't it?" He said, putting on an intentionally princely tone.

"Not yet," Gaius said. Arthur looked at him.

"I told you I'd let you know," He said amiably, the prince shrugged, not knowing how to respond to that. The King squinted at him, and Arthur was sure he'd just seen through himself. Ousted by _yourself_. How in blazes was _that_ fair?

But he didn't get the opportunity to figure it out, nor did King Arthur have the time to call him out, because within a few heartbeats there were loud, stomping footsteps on the stairs, and two Merlins burst through the door, the older one looking wildly excited.

"I was _wrong!_ I was wrong, so, wonderfully, completely, _world-savingly_ _wrong!_" He was smiling ear-to-ear, and waving about a wooden stick in his hand, although Prince Arthur wasn't sure if Merlin realized that he was holding it or not. He stepped back slightly.

"Wrong?" King Arthur stood, "Wrong about – for god's sake Merlin, put your bludgeoning stick down and – what on _earth_ are you smiling about?"

Merlin didn't seem to have heard him. "It _wasn't_ there! But then it was, but of course it is _now_, but it _wasn't_! And it was _just the same_," He dropped his stick to one side, where younger Merlin caught it. "Arthur do you know what this _means?_" He grabbed the King by the shoulders and shook hard. Arthur seemed extremely confused as he said,

"You're not making _any_ sense, Merlin,"

"_We aren't changing anything!_" the warlock burst out happily, and grabbed Arthur in a hug. Their younger counterparts were watching the scene with mixed confusion and discomfort. King Arthur stood still in Merlin's grip, unfazed by the embrace but still baffled by what Merlin had said.

"What do you mean, _not changing anything? _Arthur said around a cheek that was smashed by Merlin's arm, "you mean in time?"

"Yes!" Merlin exclaimed, and drew back. "I told you before that we were changing everything, that we'd be stuck here forever and completely _ruin _time and history as we know it," and as he went on grinning giddly, Giaus, Merlin, and Arthur all exchanged horrified glances. Obviously, they'd missed out on that particular conversation. Older Merlin continued on, "But I was _wrong_! So wonderfully wrong! _He's_ proved me so, with a knotty old tree, bless it's charred roots!" Merlin pointed to his younger self.

"Alright," King Arthur said, in far calmer a tone than the Prince thought he would've been able to manage, "I think you'd ought to explain, Merlin, and start from the beginning."

Merlin visibly forced himself to calm down, but occupied his twitchy hands with fixing Arthur's collar and jacket, which had been tossed askew when Merlin had hugged him. The king let him, and watched the warlock's face expectantly, arms crossed.

"Arthur, you remember when you and I went up to that elder tree to get my staff the first time 'round, there was a huge scar on one side of it, like it'd been struck by lightning?" He brushed off Arthur's jacket shoulders as the king looked up in thought.

"Yes, I suppose there was. What of it?"

"Well, the strike _wasn't there_ when Merlin and I went," He said, tugging down the corners of Arthur's collar, "Until, _until_ we went to go get a piece of wood for the staff, and Merlin got the pronunciation wrong, and it was there!"

"Merlin," Arthur swatted his hands away, because in his excitement Merlin had begun to tug rather violently on Arthur's jacket, "_what_ was there?"

"The lightning strike! It's just the same, but it's _not_ a lightning strike – it never was! It's from just today, just now, when we got the wood to make our staff! _It's the same thing!"_

King Arthur was frowning. "From making a _staff?_ That can't be the same thing."

"But it _is!" _Merlin insisted. Arthur shook his head.

"That's impossible. That was in _our_ world."

"Exactly!"

"But that can't be the same unless…" The king's expression started to clear. "Unless it was there _before_,"

"Yes,"

"But that would mean that it was… _today_, you two," He pointed between the two Merlins, and the older one was beaming again and nodding his head.

"Yes!"

"And _we_ didn't know about it until _then_, because you'd never been to that tree until-"

"Exactly!"

"But… Merlin, if that's all true, then that means,"

"_We're not changing anything!" _Merlin exclaimed. Arthur's face was full shock and revelation.

"We're… we're not changing anything," He said, and blinked, and slowly a smile took over his face. "We're not _changing anything,_" He said, turning excitedly toward Merlin.

"I _know!_" The sorcerer was bouncing up and down for joy.

"Would someone _please_ explain what on _earth _you two are on about?" Prince Arthur interjected, frustrated at his inability to understand. Younger Merlin crossed his arms and waited for the reply. Gaius was also watching expectantly.

As if noticing their company for the first time, King and Warlock looked about and tried to calm down. Merlin was still smiling widely, but was at least somewhat more civil as he said,

"By traveling through time, we're not _changing_ anything. I thought we might have been, with disasterous results, but… we're _not_. It's all the same!" He said, "all of this, it's already happened. Do you know what that means?" He asked the air. Prince Arthur thought it was rhetorical, and raised his eyebrows expectantly, but it was King Arthur who actually answered, voice full of relief.

"It means we can go home."


	22. Error and Consequence

**A/N**: Welp.

So this will be the end, then.

In all honesty, I wasn't all that surprised to hear that Series 5 will, in fact, be the last series of Merlin to ever air, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. I'm glad that they aren't pushing the show beyond its bounds, dragging it out to every last penny, 'jumping the shark', as you may know the phrase, teasing it out until it becomes unbearable. I've known for a while that it was always planned to be a 5-series show, so it's nice that they're sticking to that. But It's so… _final_. And that's kind of sad. Especially because, with only 5 episodes left, they have a _lot_ of ground to cover and a _lot_ of promises to keep and a _lot_ of fans who will be sorely disappointed if they aren't the most stunningly, amazingly _perfect_ episodes known to mankind. Which, of course, they won't be. (come on ,this is _Merlin_ we're talking about – the writers never seem to be on the same page with each other, let alone with the fans) And that makes me sad. But I'm going to hope for something nice, something that will make the bittersweet ending a tad more sweet than bitter, something to tie up the show nicely.

_Merlin_ was never a perfect show, and it won't be when it wraps up. In fact, it was flat-out cheesy when it started, embarrassingly so, at times. It's been criticized and downgraded for its many issues when it comes to plot, acting, CGI, predictability, and inconsistency. But for all it's flaws, for all the questions left unanswered, character relations left by the wayside, and the many, many inconsistencies within the stories it's told over the years, this gem of a show will always be special and wonderful because of its characters and the message they have to tell.

Love, deep enough to forgive even when it's hard

Mistakes, how to make them and how to get up afterward.

Laughter, at each other and ourselves.

Bravery, in the glamorous and not-so-glamorous battles we face.

Loyalty, even when you want to run away.

Doing what's right, even when the lines are blurry.

And above all, an unrelenting, unshakable, life-defining refusal to ever, _ever_ lose hope. Because some day, things will be put to rights.

And that just kind of makes me smile. So I'll take it, flaws and all, to the very end, and clap when it's over, because it's been a lovely five years, and the heart of this show, while not always what we want, will always be what we love: imperfect, lovely humans, who've somehow made the world a better place to be.

**SERIES 5 NEWS RANT OVER.**

I'm sorry I haven't updated this story in so long. Life's been pretty hard of late. Especially this past week. I won't go into details, but these last two weeks of school are killing me with stress. On Thursday morning, I actually passed out, apparently because of stress and dehydration. So now on top of everything, I'm paranoid about randomly konking out again and have been chugging water like no one's business in an attempt to stave off further dehydration.

Writing has always been a bit of a stress reliever for me. I figured I might as well work on this chapter. Hopefully it will answer some of your questions about last chapter – I know I got several people scratching their noggins about what was said last chapter, and more than one person nagging me about my flawed time-travel theory. Mind you, it's mostly flawed because the _character's_ _perception _of what's going on is flawed. All in good time. Hopefully when I wrap this story up, it will make sense.

In the meantime, enjoy this new chapter!

* * *

><p>"But we're not <em>changing<em> anything," Merlin said to himself, a deep grimace in place as sat at an empty desk, fiddling with the empty bottle of his medicine. From behind him, King Arthur heaved a sigh.

"Merlin, that is the fifth time you've said that this evening, and this will be the fifth time I ask you: what's wrong?" He looked only partially invested in the question, and was mindlessly polishing a dagger by the fire. They were back in Merlin's quarters in the castle, away from Gaius and their younger selves.

"Well, it's just that we're not _changing_ anything," Merlin said, turning.

"That'll be six," He said, tossing an exasperated look into his dagger. Merlin huffed and settled into his chair, a frustrated squiggle settling between his eyebrows.

"Look, what I said before, about making new worlds, all that, I was wrong."

"Yes," Arthur goaded, looking at his reflection.

"Which is good. But now the fact that we really _aren't_ changing anything… it doesn't make any sense."

"How do you mean?"

"For one, you and I still don't remember being here before. We should. Unless something _incredibly_ drastic happens with our memory – not out of the question, mind you - we _should_ remember meeting our older selves – you and I – _now. _ Or, then, if you prefer."

"Not that _that's_ confusing at all," Arthur remarked sarcastically. Merlin ignored him.

"Also, _how _are we not changing anything? I've blown so many secrets this past week, I'm surprised I haven't given myself nightmares yet."

"Well maybe it's like you said," Arthur put away his dagger and looked over at Merlin. "You know some memory-wiping spells, don't you? Perhaps you just end up wiping all our memories and all those slipped secrets will just right themselves."

Merlin pursed his lips. "Maybe, but…" He scoffed. "For one, that'd take _immense _power – focused power, that I'm not even sure _I_ could conjure all at once. It be next to impossible." Merlin sighed, deeply troubled. "It doesn't make any sense." He bit on his forefinger, glancing around as if something in his bedchambers would give him the answer.

"On that note," Arthur put in, suddenly thoughtful as well, "if _we're_ not changing anything, what does that mean for Morgana?"

"Yes, I'd thought of that."

"And?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"Right. Is it possible, she isn't changing anything, either?"

It took a moment for Merlin to answer. "I'm not sure." He turned fully toward Arthur. "Whatever happens now, whatever we do or don't do here obviously doesn't affect anyone in Camelot from the past – from _now_. But you and I… We're fair game, Arthur."

Arthur's face fell. "What?"

"You and I, and Morgana, we're the part of the equation that doesn't add up. The only reason I know we must not be changing anything in the past is because I know the future of this time – _our_ past. What I _remember_. What I _know_. And when I see continuity between now and the future of now that I remember because I _lived_ through it, I know it must still remain intact."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, thinking, but eventually nodded. "Alright,"

"But I don't know _our_ future – I don't know if you and I get back to our own time, I don't know if either of us gets hurt, or killed, or when, or why, or anything. For all I know, you and I could easily fall by Morgana's hand now, in the past."

Arthur was shaking his head. "But you said we weren't changing anything. That means we can go home."

"In so much as it means we're not trapped in some alternate dimension, separated from our own world by a space-time splice with an ever-widening chasm of void in between us, yes, Arthur, we _can_ go home. But that doesn't mean we _will_. Morgana could get to us before then, if we're not careful, if we can't figure out the rest of Eoran's puzzle before Morgana does."

"But… you said we weren't changing anything."

"No, not in the lives of Arthur, Merlin, Gaius, Uther… but our own futures aren't set in stone."

There was a silent pause after that. Arthur's face formed a deep frown. "But… we must have _some_ future," Arthur said, "just as real to you and I as we are to Merlin and Arthur, even if we can't see it. And if that's true, then… why _isn't _our future set in stone?"

Merlin frowned, and stared. Arthur stared back. A thousand explanations, questions, thoughts ran through Merlin's head, and eventually condensed themselves into a single comment, and that comment solidified itself in his throat, but just as he drew breath, the door opened and Younger Merlin poked his head in.

"Sorry," He said sheepishly when identically intense expressions turned to greet him, "But I'm done sanding down the staff, like you said," He brought out the elder wood, now smooth and straight, if not a bit plain. "What should I do with it now?"

"Ah," Older Merlin rose, brain changing gears immediately. "We'll need to charge it, then. Put some magic into it. It can't hold much without a core, but so long as you and I are the only ones who use it, it won't need to. Still, it's nice to have a bit of a jump handy. Never know when the urge will strike."

Young Merlin frowned. "Urge?"

Older Merlin said nothing, but turned to look curiously at Arthur. More specifically, at the back of Arthur's head. The king sighed, face a bit more longsuffering than Younger Merlin was used to seeing it.

"Right then, you two get your _urges_ under control, and I'll go and sort a hiding place for this club of yours, shall I?"

"I had thought we might entrust it to Gaius until we need it," Younger Merlin said. His older self shook his head. "A bit obvious, should Morgana get any ideas. We'd dismissed that idea, but hadn't thought of any others – but have you, Arthur?"

"I have. But he'll need a good talking to beforehand."

Older Merlin cocked an eyebrow, but the king merely shook his head. "I'll let you know," he said, and let himself out.

* * *

><p>Shortly, Arthur found himself, but not exactly in the way the older one had been intending.<p>

"Still spying on Morgana, then," The Prince didn't sound very surprised, or amused. King Arthur jumped and spun on the spot. He _had _been watching Morgana, it was true, because she'd just walked past. But he hadn't been _spying_ on her. Not really.

"Looking for you, actually," Arthur said with pronounced authority. Authority which, it seemed, did nothing when exerted on his younger self.

"But you admit you _were_ spying."

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"I could ask you the same question."

Arthur stared at him, at himself, hard. He grit his teeth and looked away. "I need to talk to you."

"About Morgana?"

"No, something else. But not here. Your rooms are empty this time of day, aren't they?"

When they reached Arthur's quarters, the prince shut the doors behind them.

"What is it you want?"

"I need a favor. No, _we_ need a favor of you."

"What's that?" Arthur had his arms crossed.

"We need you to… keep something. Safe. Just a for a little while."

"What 'something'?"

The king's mouth twitched. "A staff."

"Oh, a _staff_," Prince Arthur said acidly, "you don't mean that sodding stick _Mer_lin brought back yesterday, do you? The one he got from a _tree_, which must have been some miles away to be gone _all day_. Or was it something different that they were doing, what with lightning strikes and _getting the pronunciation wrong_, whatever the hell that means."

"Arthur,"

"Oh! Or is it something you swiped from my father after you've been stalking his ward for the past week, god knows why, or did you take it from beneath Geoffrey's nose whilst studying _magic_ in his archives?"

"_Arthur,"_

"Yes, _Arthur._ Let's have it, then, _Arthur_. What staff is it we're talking about? And why do I need to keep it anywhere, much less anywhere _safe_? Because I'm _dying_ to hear an explanation."

The silence could have been cut with a knife while King Arthur wrestled with his mouth, and Prince Arthur stared at him in challenge. How Arthur could be this mad and this frustrated and this scared of _himself_ was beyond his grasp.

"Arthur… you really don't want to know."

The prince snapped. "I _do_ want to know, damnit!" And the king flinched at his own voice. "That's all I've been told, for two weeks. Don't ask. You don't want to know. Forget I said that. Forget you saw that. No need to tell Arthur, he won't notice when you go off all day to get a _stick_, he won't notice when you all gather at Gaius' to plan lord knows what without his knowledge, he won't notice when you _spy on Morgana_, he won't notice when Merlin won't give him a straight answer, he won't notice when we start studying _magic! _He's too stupid, he won't know, he won't care, he won't _want_ to know. But I _do_, I do want to know."

"Even if you do, I don't think you'll like it,"

"I don't remotely care if I'll _like _it, I want to _know_."

The King shook his head, almost bashfully. "I don't think you'll understand."

The Prince glared hard before he pressed on, rage making his quieted voice shake, "If you really are me, if you really are my future, you should know _damn _well what my answer is to that pack of lies." The King shot him a sideglance. Of course he knew. The Prince let him know anyway, with low ferocity in his voice. "Try me."

King Arthur tipped his head and regarded himself, his younger self, in all his high-strung temper and frustration. He knew painfully well how arrogant he used to be, how presumptuous and undiplomatic. But he also knew that this younger Arthur was desperate for honesty. He'd been starved from the truth since birth, even if he didn't know the full scope of it yet. And although speaking tasted like vinegar, Arthur knew it's what his younger self craved.

"Fine." He looked the prince in the eye. "Yes, the staff is what Merlin was fetching yesterday. Yes, it's from a tree that's hours away, in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, actually. We need you to protect it because it's a magic staff, far too powerful in the wrong hands. It's our ticket back to our own time. As for Morgana," the king's voice hitched on itself, because she was his sister, and he was talking to himself. "she might not be quite what you think, anymore, and needs an eye on her to be safe."

The prince's reaction was stoic. He looked, and only looked, and didn't say anything for a long while.

"That's not the whole truth, is it?"

The King looked down at him. "I'm afraid it'll never be that easy. It never should."

"Not even from _myself_?" He seem angry.

"Especially not from yourself," the king retorted. "If you truly value finding the truth, then perhaps you ought to hunt it down, go alongside it, and try to understand with more than your short temper."

"And how am I supposed to do _that_," The prince snapped, "when it's all being deliberately hidden from me?"

The King's eyes shot down to the ground, and a ringing silence took over. When Arthur looked up, he looked apologetic. "I can only say that I'm sorry on that front." He shook his head. "It's a knee-jerk reaction with you, I'm afraid."

"To lie to me."

"To _hide_ from you." He said. "For good reason, usually. You're a Pendragon."

The Prince started to speak again, but caught himself and gauged his next comment.

"This is about the _magic_, isn't it?" He said, deliberately calming his tone. "I've been… thinking about it, you know. I'm not… I'm not some _animal_ about it. It's alright that there's magic." He was surprised when King Arthur smiled, very bitterly, and nodded.

"And I'm glad to hear it. But it's not just magic, Arthur. If only it were ever just _magic, _our life would be so much simpler." He looked up, and his eyes were old and sad. "But it's always been more than that. It will never be so simple for you. If it was ever _just_ the magic, do you really think our father would have fought it so ferociously for so long?"

Prince Arthur seemed utterly baffled. "But… all this…secrecy, it's about magic, isn't it?" He'd prepared a speech about his own willingness to cooperate, to understand. And now, his older self was saying it wasn't enough.

The king sighed heavily, and his whole chest fell a bit. "Arthur," he said, quietly, "one day, possibly sooner for you than I can remember, you will begin to learn things. Horrible, wonderful things, about everything you've ever believed to be true. And yes, magic has to do with every last one of them." The prince's eyes were growing alarmed. "But you have to be ready to face it, to take it all, and sort through the misconstrued connections and disconnections. You have to be able to differentiate between good and bad where it's hard to see, or else end up just like our father,"

"Our father?" Prince Arthur sounded hurt.

Older Arthur send him look of complete understanding. "Haven't you ever wondered _why_ magic is evil? Why it wasn't evil before Uther became king over Camelot?" He watched as the prince's brain started to run faster. "I know from what you've said, Arthur, you've considered the possibility that magic might be able to be good," the king said, and the prince's eyes shot up to look at him, as though he wasn't quite sure he'd say the same about himself. Older Arthur continued, "but have you ever wondered why you never thought that way before now? Did you ever consider that some pain is easier to bear scapegoated onto another, even if it is another entire race?"

The Prince was only staring, now, too scared and too caught up in his thoughts to respond.

"The truth is deep, and hard, Arthur," The king said, but added soon after, "And it is worth it. Skies above, is it worth it. But not all at once. Not now. You have to come alongside, and by god, you have to be ready to listen, to understand him."

The prince frowned suddenly. "Him?"

The king's face made an odd expression as he realized his mistake. He rebounded by pretending he hadn't heard the prince's query. "And you can start now by keeping this staff safe. Answers will come of it, I promise. No more hiding, if I can help it."

They shared a deep look, a look that, at a later date, Arthur would never be able to describe, because it was simultaneously a self-understanding and an inescapably moving interaction with another person entirely. At the end, when their gazes moved away from one another, the prince nodded.

"I understand."

The king gave a microscopic smile. "You're starting to."

* * *

><p>Morgana was beginning to grow restless. She'd been playing her role as dumb royal ward far too well the past days, and it was beginning to grate on her. Her scrying had been utterly fruitless on all counts, save for one afternoon when she'd seen both Merlins walking back to Camelot from the wood, the older one with a walking stick of some kind. It looked freshly-cut. But she hadn't thought much of it until that night, when she passed him holding the same walking stick, but sanded down to a smooth sheen. Older Merlin held it easily as he headed for Arthur's rooms, and Morgana would have thought nothing of it if she hadn't been able to sense its magic.<p>

It rolled off the staff in waves, humming to her. She'd sucked in a breath when she felt it, and had to give a silly excuse to Gwen when the maid had asked.

Somehow, some way, they had found one. They had found a hugely powerful magical artifact, beyond anything hidden away in Camelot's vaults. How, Morgana wasn't sure. But she was positive they knew what they were doing with it, she was positive it was their Key. It was her time to act, before her tools could escape under their own volition. She waited until Gwen had left her chambers dark and quiet before she reached beneath her bed and pulled out the mirror. She waved her hand over the surface and muttered a few words of power, and the reflection rippled to show a figure cloaked in a dark hood.

The figure said nothing, but the faceless look spoke a clear question. She answered with a nod.

"It's time."

* * *

><p>"This isn't lapses tonic," Older Merlin said as he took his medicine that night. His younger counterpart nodded.<p>

"No. Well, there's some of that too, but… Gaius and I thought that, when we go out to find Eoran's hideaway in a few days, we might all be better off if we can share magic. It's borrower's brew."

Older Merlin looked up at himself even as he pulled his bedcovers up around himself. "Why give it to me now, then?"

"Time to get used to it again, you know, practice. Gaius was worried it might end up as a sort of tug-of-war over magic between us. Figured he'd give us some time to sort out a balanced system."

Merlin smiled. "Thoughtful of him, though I don't _think_ that will be a problem. Either way, I won't complain about having magic again." He downed the potion, which wasn't nearly as vile tasting as the lapses tonic, and sighed as he felt it begin to seep into his system straightaway. "Ah, that's nice, really it is."

Younger Merlin smiled. "My magic is your magic," He said amiably and began clearing the tray away.

"It already was, in fact," Older Merlin rolled over in bed. "But… thank you, truly."

"It's odd to thank yourself, isn't it?"

"We'll always be odd."

Merlin snorted. "True. Goodnight, Merlin,"

"Goodnight, Merlin."

* * *

><p>From the moment the borrower's potion started to take effect, Merlin could sense the staff in Arthur's room down the hall. He doubted Younger Merlin could sense it, because he wasn't used to it. But to Court Sorcerer Merlin, who'd walked with a staff for nearly five years, now, it was as familiar and as comforting as the sound of his own heartbeat. It was a constant but not demanding presence in the back of his mind, quietly resting somewhere, hidden away in Arthur's chambers where his younger self had hidden it earlier that evening. At peace, it's thrum lulling its sorcerer to sleep even doors down the castle halls.<p>

And then, someone touched it.

It wasn't Arthur. It wasn't Merlin. It wasn't Freya or Balin or Guinevere or Raina or Gaius or any single person on the exhaustive list of familiars that ran through Merlin's groggy mind as a mental warning cry pulled him from his sleep. Something engrained deep in him recognized who it was, but he was so tired he didn't bother voicing the name before he was up and out of his room, down the hall and bursting through Arthur's bedroom door. When he arrived, his heart dropped.

A cloaked figure stood holding the staff out in front of itself, with a bed clothes-clad Arthur holding a useless sword in defense, backing away as the staff crackled. Without thinking, Merlin threw himself into the room and pulled Arthur back by his elbow, past and behind the warlock, who took up a protective stance like he would with his own son.

"Drop it," Merlin said, even though he knew it was useless. The magic in the staff crackled its protest against its wielder, but the cloaked figure hardly flinched as it turned to Merlin.

"So you've found your key, Emrys. I'm impressed. But did you _really_ think I was going to stand by the wayside while you uncovered that which I've worked so hard for?" It was a woman's voice, and behind Merlin, Arthur's face grew slack with confusion and horror. The hooded head turned slightly to look at Arthur, and she seemed to be talking to herself as she said, "It would be _so easy_ to just kill him right now." She walked towards them, staff growing excited with magic. Merlin knew that she would never be able to wield the staff as he could, but he did not doubt her ability to kill. He put an arm out to anchor Arthur safely behind him.

"You will not _touch_ him,"

She hummed a mad laugh. "No, but this…" she gave a little wave with the staff, "I cannot say."

"Merlin," Arthur started to say,

"Arthur, you _stay put_."

"Oh, the boy prince under command of a _serving boy_." The cloaked one spat. "you always did have him like a dog at your feet, _Emrys_."

"I'm no one's _dog_," Arthur snapped,

"Drop the staff, _Le Fey_," Merlin growled.

"Ooh, all titles today, are we? Well then, _Emrys_, you've given your orders, now I'll give you mine:" Her voice grew steely and commanding "step out of from between me and my second prize, and I _might _not blast you through the heart."

"I'd like to see you try," he hissed.

"With the greatest pleasure," she raised the staff.

"Like _hell_ you will," Arthur wrested himself from Merlin's grip.

"Arthur, stop!" Merlin lunged.

"_Ábíetee-"_

"_Bordrand!_" he tackled the prince, eyes flashing.

"_-áflygennes!"_

Magic crashed, blue against green, the world exploded and very suddenly, everything Merlin knew was silenced in an instant.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**Oh, I missed writing cliffhangers.

Now I have to go write a research paper.

Well _bother_.

Hope you enjoyed it!_  
><em>


	23. The Coin

A/N: Guys, I'm not emotionally ready for tomorrow, much less monday. I'm really not. I'm trying desperately to keep my hopes up at least somewhat, but I know that, no matter how good or bad it may be, I am not ready for Merlin to end.

Please, guys, promise me? We'll keep these characters living on (and living _well_) in fanfiction. And not just bad, indulgent, fan-servicing fanfiction, but the good stuff. You know what I mean?

Please. I can't bear to watch these gems of characters fizzle out with their show.

At any rate, this chapter has been sitting unfinished on my computer for too long. Only a few more chapters to go! Hope everyone likes them!

* * *

><p>Merlin woke up screaming. Or at least, that's what they'd tell him afterward. When it happened, he wasn't aware that he was screaming, or that he was thrashing in his bed. At the time, all he knew was that something suddenly and overwhelmingly hurt. At first he wasn't sure what it was, but it was agony. The shock of it was making his breath come in halts and stops that left him in screams, and sent his hands clawing up at his neck at some invisible force choking him, ripping out his innards. It took longer than it should have for him to figure out what it was. His <em>magic.<em> His _magic _ hurt, and it hurt like hell. By the time he was able to voice this revelation through his screams, he realized vaguely that Arthur and Gaius were both there, faces terrified. Arthur was holding Merlin immobile on his bed while Gaius looked over his vitals.

"His _magic_ hurts?" He heard Arthur say worriedly, "what does that mean?"

Gaius was shaking his head, Merlin could see the white waves of his hair blurrily through his pained tears. "I don't know, sire, this is completely unprovoked, unless…" Gaius froze, and shot his head to Arthur. "He gave Merlin a borrower's brew last night. If Merlin's older self were to use magic, it could bear repercussions on himself. But it shouldn't be painful, not like this… Unless…"

"Unless what?"

Gaius looked up at the king. "Unless he used an incredible amount of magic, a combative amount of magic, and he was struck down."

Arthur's expression cleared, and he was up in seconds, grabbing his sword and belt on the way out. Merlin continued to moan and jerk, hands folding protectively over his core, head twisting as if hoping to escape somehow. Gaius looked over him, conflicted, but quickly came to a decision and went down to his medicine cabinet, grabbed a vial, and came back. He wrenched Merlin around.

"Merlin, can you hear me?" When the warlock did nothing to reply, Gaius hauled up Merlin's head as gently as he could manage, and tipped the vial into his mouth. Merlin protested at first, but seemed to understand quickly and drank it without question. He collapsed immediately afterward back into his moaning, but after several long, painful minutes, it began to die down, until he was only shivering, drenched in sweat.

"W-what was that?" He asked Gaius.

"I'm not sure," Gaius told him, and his voice gave Merlin the distinct impression that this wasn't over, whatever 'this' was.

"What did you give me?"

Gaius looked slightly guilty. "It will cut off your connection with Merlin. But it might have saved your magic."

Merlin's eyes were clearing, and he frowned. "But… where does that leave him?"

Gaius let his guilty eyes fell downward, and wondered if he'd made a horrible mistake.

* * *

><p>"Merlin?" Arthur whispered into the dark. He waited, but when there was no answer, he jogged a bit closer. "Merlin?" Still nothing. The prince sighed. He'd been trying on and off to talk to Merlin for the past hour or so, but the older man remained resolutely unconscious. He wasn't sure what he thought about that, or perhaps even worse, what he might think when his companion finally came around.<p>

The moment of their capture was a large blur for Arthur, but he knew for a fact that Merlin had used magic. He'd Merlin say a spell, he'd seen his eyes flash gold. He'd heard their captor's cry of anger, and furthermore, Arthur realized that Merlin's spell had saved their lives. But it was _magic_. He grit his teeth. He'd told his older self that he'd been bracing himself for the necessity of magic in their predicament. He'd meant it. But he'd never braced himself for something like _this_. Merlin. Magic. _Merlin_. Alright, this wasn't _Merlin_ Merlin, this was _Other_ Merlin, a strange Merlin, a Merlin that Arthur might, one day, get to know, but he wasn't really _real _for the prince. Not yet. But what did this mean for his Merlin, now? When did magic ever even enter into the picture? Did _Merlin _Merlin have magic? Why didn't _Other _Merlin admit to having magic when Arthur asked him? Did he expect Arthur to care? To run? To laugh? To kill him?

What was he supposed to _do_ with this?

"_you have to be ready to listen, to understand him," _Older Arthur had said. The prince supposed now that 'he' was Merlin, but of course, listening to Merlin hardly helped when Merlin was unconscious.

After the flashy display back in his chambers, Arthur had expected their captor to whisk them off by some sorcerer's means, but he and Merlin had been bound to a cart that moved as slowly as a non-magical horse and tack might. The small cart was full of supplies of some sort that Arthur couldn't make out through the night, but most of it had been shoved to one side so that Merlin could be deposited in the back in a curled heap, unconscious and bound. Arthur didn't fail to notice that while his wrists were tied with hewn rope, Merlin was secured with chains. They clinked lightly as the cart bobbed beneath him. Arthur bit his lip and tried to gauge what level of insult he should take as a warrior, now considered less dangerous than a lanky, unconscious man.

Then again, that unconscious man was a _sorcerer_. Arthur cursed to himself and wished his brain hadn't brought it full circle. He didn't like thinking about it. It was uncomfortable. He hadn't been expecting it, he didn't know what to do with it, he wasn't prepared to talk about it, he couldn't do anything to fix it, and he didn't like it one bit. But he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He shuffled on through the darkness, the night broken only by the clinking of chains, the clopping of hooves, and the looming presence of their captor at the front of the wagon. Arthur jogged back up toward the back end of the cart, where the unconscious figure lay.

"Merlin?" He whispered, hoping their captor would hear. "Damnit, Merlin, you've got a world of explaining to do," he said, and the sentence seemed unfinished because the other man didn't react. Arthur sighed and fell back.

"Please don't make listening harder than it's going to be," He said, and wasn't sure who he was talking to.

* * *

><p>"Sire – Arthur, <em>Sir<em>, I can't let you go in there-"

"Yes to all, and yes you _will,_ Sir Leon," King Arthur stormed past the knight with a commanding snap in his voice that gave Leon pause enough to put him behind. Flustered, he jogged back up.

"I'm sorry, Sire, but I'm under strict orders to-"

"Merlin's chambers."

"What?"

"Merlin, the older one, where has he been staying?"

"Sire, I'm not sure I should _tell_ you, as I said I can't let you-"

"Sir Leon," Arthur rounded suddenly, staring across at his friend and colleague. "At the moment, you are under my father's rule. I understand that. But I need you to understand this: I, too, am king, and despite being stuck in the wrong time, I know far more about what is going on than you or my father. Neither time nor age can nullify my first claim to authority, and you have no grounds upon which to challenge the second. So, Sir Leon, you _can_ let me pass, and you _will_."

The knight's mouth made several movements as if to talk, but he couldn't find any intelligible words. Prince Arthur had an explosive temper, one that Leon was used to dealing with – but _King_ Arthur was cool, commanding, and _right_.

And, Leon realized as a strange squeak left his mouth and he lunged after the time-traveler, _older_ than him. It was an added intimidation that Leon hadn't been expecting.

"But _Sire!_" Leon called, and raced after Arthur into the palace. He hoped they wouldn't wake anyone. The guards were tossing him looks, but since no swords had been drawn, they remained at their posts.

Arthur paid no heed to Leon or the guards, and picked his way to the wing of guest chambers.

"This," He pointed to a room whose door hung open, "is this Merlin's room?" He looked to Leon, who nodded dumbly. Arthur barged in. He cursed loudly, and flew back out again. He was charging in another direction, toward the royal residences.

"Arthur!" Leon hissed, following. Arthur ignored him and barged right into his own rooms, the door banging against the wall as he did so. Leon ran forward to apologize to the would-be-sleeping prince, but stopped short as they came into the room. Belongings of various sorts were flung all across the room in disarray. Leon stood there, dumbstruck, while Arthur stepped forward quickly to check behind a carefully placed bedcurtain. He cursed again.

"It's gone," he breathed.

"What's gone?" Leon asked, reaching for his sword. "Sire, what is going on?" Arthur didn't reply, but had fixated his gaze on a large scorch mark on the wooden floor near the window. "Sire?"

Arthur's face was unreadable, but his voice was dangerous. "She's taken them."

Leon had frozen in non-comprehending fear. "What?"

"Arthur and Merlin," Arthur told him, now charging for the door, "she's taken them."

"Taken them…" Leon still didn't understand fully, but his gaze drifted back toward the burned floor as Arthur stomped away, and alarms rang loudly in his mind. "Guards," he said, and then louder, "_Guards!"_

* * *

><p>Arthur's feet hurt. He'd thought that they might stop for a while to rest – it was the middle of the night, after all - but whoever it was that had captured them was in a hurry to get somewhere, it seemed. <em>But<em>, Arthur thought with a squint, _not in a hurry enough to use magic. Or maybe they can't_. He wasn't sure what made the last thought pop into his mind, but pursuing the conundrum further was stopped before it could rise on his list of priorities when Merlin began to stir.

The warlock groaned quietly, and tried to turn his head up.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered, jogging up to the cart before matching its pace with his own. It took a moment, but Merlin's eyes seemed to find Arthur's face through the darkness.

"…'thur?" He asked. He could see a halo of hair floating about a face in the dim moonlight.

"It's me," the prince said.

"Oh, good."

Arthur blinked and added on too late, "the young me, in case you're wondering."

There was a pause, and Arthur wondered if Merlin was listening, but then,

"Oh, _bullocks_."

It wasn't _exactly_ the reaction he had been expecting. "I'm… sorry?"

"No, not you, Arthur," Merlin said, drawing himself up into a more-or-less sitting position. "It's these damned chains," he said, tugging and peering at the cuffs.

"What about them?" Arthur asked. "You expected them to let you swing free?"

"No, they've got runes all over them – no wonder I can't use my m-" even though Arthur couldn't see Merlin, he could picture him biting his lip in sudden fear as he cut himself off.

"Your magic, you mean." Arthur finished for him, trying not to sound too uncomfortable.

It was uncomfortable anyway.

"Ah," Merlin said after a moment. He sighed. "Yes… my magic. Arthur," he began, but the prince held up a forestalling hand, even if the other man couldn't see it.

"No, no, I understand."

"You… do?"

"Yes. I understand, to fight… this sorceress, you need to use magic. You've studied magic before, you obviously must know a _little_, so, you saved us using magic. I get it. Just… don't do that again, if it'll knock you out like that."

"A _little_…?" Merlin scoffed into the night air. "Arthur… It's not…"

"No, no, it's fine. Really. I don't… I don't _blame_ you for it. Just… why didn't you tell me, when I asked, that you could do magic?

"Arthur, I'm sorry, I just didn't know how to-"

"It doesn't matter. It's only this once, right? Just to get you home. Fight magic with magic, all that, it makes sense, I would… I might, that is… I can see where you're coming from. But you didn't tell me, that's all." Arthur sniffed in diffidence.

"Just… this once," Merlin echoed quietly, to himself.

* * *

><p>Morgana was twitchy. Not that she would admit it. She detested traveling by horse, much less by horse and cart, but she'd learned her lesson weeks ago when she'd first come upon Eoran's hidden cove: none could force their way in by magic. Unarmed, mundane, and simple. It was the only way past the wards. Besides, she reasoned, with a man like Emrys as a bargaining chip, she might just need the extra energy to call upon later.<p>

Her gloved hands creaked against the leather reins as they tightened their grip. _Emrys_. Of course, it'd been part of the plan all along to capture him as well as the prince, but she'd planned on doing it later, taking him separately. Properly. Emrys was trouble enough, and the Once and Future King was her greatest threat, but _together_, they were something else entirely. Separately, they would waste their energy ensuring the safety of the other. But _together…_

They were a single coin, forged by destiny to be seen by all but defeated by none.

But she would change that. She _had_ to change that. She'd sworn to herself, to her younger self, to her very _life_, she'd sworn to change that. _She _was the master of time. _She _was the master of fate. And despite the forgiveness Arthur had extended after the Purge finally ended, despite the chances of cowardice that Merlin had offered her before he struck and killed her, despite the echoing, condemning voices of _you were wrong_ that followed her like a ghost, she would _do it_. She would change the past. She would rend the coin that destiny forged, and she would take up the smith's hammer of fate. And this time, neither the King nor his Warlock would get in her way.

Merlin was bound by magicked chains in the cart. His unconsciousness had been a blessing for hours, a comfort to her in the knowledge that he could not conspire with his king – or _prince_, as it were. Arthur, the young, naive Arthur, was too concerned with walking to be of any threat. He called to Merlin, Morgana heard a few times, but in vain.

She wasn't sure how long he'd been awake when she finally heard their whispering, but furious ice rushed through her veins. _No._ this is where it always went wrong. This was them, _together_. The _Coin_. Her lips were drawing up in a snarl of their own accord, threatening to break and become a scream. She refrained, but whipped her reins harshly against the horses' backs. She would _not_ let them take this from her.

* * *

><p>Merlin didn't know what to say, where to start. The conversation was made slightly more uncomfortable because neither of them could see the other clearly and they had to keep their voices down so their captor would not hear them. Merlin sighed. It was a long moment before he spoke again, when he could sense that Arthur was listening.<p>

"The magic," He said, "it's _not_ just this once, Arthur. It never was. It can never be."

He could feel the indignation and hurt building, but before Arthur could say anything, the cart lurched forward to a new speed, and the prince was forced to start jogging, farther back from the cart. Merlin pulled himself up to sit more steadily, and although through the black he could only hear Arthur's breathing and pounding feet, he could almost feel the prince's eyes searching for him in the dark.

* * *

><p>"Where is he?" Uther cried, "Where is my son?"<p>

The courtyard was chaos. Knights, guards, and castle staff were frenzied under the ring of the warning bells. The Prince was missing, they'd learned. Gone. _Taken_.

"We will find him, your majesty," Leon assured, in the process of appointing ranks to his knights.

"What happened?" Uther demanded, coming up to Leon. The knight straightened.

"The… _Other_ Arthur, milord. He came into the castle, despite my warnings, and found the Prince's chambers in disarray. He said that 'she' had taken him and the Older Merlin."

Ignoring mention of Merlin, Uther glared over at King Arthur. "Who? Who took him?"

"The sorceress. The one who brought us here."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, as he adjusted his cloak, "but I plan to find out. Leon, fetch two horses!"

"You don't intend to _leave_, Arthur?" Gaius asked.

"I forbid it," Uther said.

"And I'd like to see you try and stop me," Arthur clipped back, his superior air sending even Uther into silence.

Leon hesitated in their midst, but eventually darted off to fetch back a sturdy bay and mare for Arthur.

"You cannot fight a sorceress!" Uther cried.

"Oh," Arthur said, tugging on his gloves and mounting the bay, "but how often I have. Merlin!" Arthur called. The servant looked up at him. "Mount up." Arthur tossed the reins of the mare to him, and Merlin didn't hesitate on heaving himself up. Weary still from his episode earlier, Merlin's eyes were sagging, but with Arthur near – even an older, less familiar Arthur - he felt ready to face anything.

"We will ride out with you," Leon said, as horses and knights filed into the courtyard.

"I can't say how dangerous that will be," Arthur told him.

"You don't have to, milord," Leon said, and mounted up beside him. Uther watched, perhaps unwilling or unable to intervene. Arthur looked across the handful of knights that had chosen to follow him. Arthur nodded.

"This ends tonight!" He cried, and grabbed the reins. Before he turned, his eyes caught on the figure of his father, and time slowed for a moment. _It ends tonight_. A deep sadness crept up Arthur's spine, freezing the image of his father, resolute, stubborn as ever, unresolved and untouched in his memory. There hadn't been enough time. There hadn't been enough interest. The memories would stay, and the forgiveness never come. But –

Before he could finish the thought, his eyes turned to Gaius, and his heart ached for a different reason. The physician was looking at him with a fatherly pride that Arthur could only treasure in silence, because he wasn't sure if Gaius knew how much it meant. Arthur nodded at Gaius, Gaius nodded back, and they both knew that this was goodbye until their future, should it come.

The present rushed back with an audible crash. "Merlin?" Arthur called.

"Right here," Merlin said from his right. The warlock's presence comforted him, made the situation feel more complete. Arthur nodded.

"Good. Don't wander. I've already lost one of you today," and although he'd meant it as a joke, it all came out sounding a bit morbid. He kneed his horse into action, and triggered a thunderous stampede of knights and horses, led by King Arthur, with the young Emrys racing close at his flank.

Too far away yet to be seen, but close enough to hear the roar of their approach, Morgana was stealing through the woods with a leather journal clutched tightly to her chest. She craned her neck as if to see the line of horses that rode against her and her Lady. She'd known all along that their efforts would not succeed unchallenged, unprosecuted. But they _would _succeed. Squaring her jaw, she quickened her pace and shot glances back toward the approaching party.

The board was set. The pieces were moving. Arthur may've been a king, but she was the Queen; she would have her way with the pawns he'd sacrificed to her.


	24. The Upper Hand

A/N: So I tried to update this thing in February. But then, life hit _hard_. I won't go into details, but I will say that this has been the longest semester, possibly the longest two months, in my life. Anyway. Life calmed down a bit. I tried to update in March. Then, school hit hard, and I found my happy place in How to Train Your Dragon, perhaps my favorite movie ever, and I got re-bitten by that movie's bug and started writing a lot for it. Now, although there are plenty of other things I should be doing, I've decided to hunker down and finish the partial chapter that's been wasting away on my desktop for far too long.

Sorry for the long delay, all. Your patience is appreciated. Hopefully, I can update quickly from here on out. I want to finish this thing well, before my inspiration for it runs dry.

* * *

><p>It began as a twitch in the back of his brain, a sort of tapping on the inside of his mind that grew increasingly more insistent as they drew further and further from Camelot and into the forest. He didn't fully recognize the dread that had been growing in his chest until all at once, he realized he that he <em>knew<em>. His heart leapt and the surprise tried to make him say something, but he choked on his tongue. It was safe, he knew, to say something. This Arthur knew about the magic, he had no need to hesitate. Still, it was hard for Merlin to make himself speak. Clearing his throat all the way up to Arthur's side, Merlin leaned across his saddle toward Arthur.

"Arthur, she's here."

"What?" Arthur darted his head back around, and only thought about keeping his voice low after Merlin jumped and the rest of the knights began trying to eavesdrop. He sighed. "Where?"

"Somewhere up ahead," Merlin said, glancing about, "I can feel it."

"Well, let's go then, we can rescue ourselves sooner rather than later."

"No, Arthur, it…" Merlin paused, and Arthur gave him a questioning look. "I think it might be a trap. There's two of her, remember."

Arthur's brow line fell. "You can't tell which one it is, then?" Merlin looked guilty, and shook his head. Arthur nodded. "Right. Keep close. Leon! Close ranks! Can't risk torchlight, and I won't be losing any of you on this goosechase. Keep close."

"Yes, sire."

"And Merlin?" Arthur said, quieter,

"Yes?"

"I don't care which Morgana it turns out to be, what you think about her nowadays, or if any of the knights can see you - if you see her and you have a clear shot, you _take it_."

Merlin gulped, and his stomach twisted. "Yes, Sire."

* * *

><p>Merlin and Arthur didn't say another word to each other all the way to Morgana's hideaway, partially because the taboo of magic still clung to the air, partially because Arthur was weary from walking, straggling along as far back and as slowly behind the cart as his tether would allow. When they arrived at Morgana's camp, it was almost hard to tell because it was so dark. One minute, they were going through almost complete blackness with the rustle of plants and rumble of dirt, and then they were in <em>complete<em> blackness, with a strange echoing sound distorting their hearing, and an inexplicably constant draft of cool, odd-smelling air brushing their faces. Arthur realized before Merlin did that they were underground, because he had to walk on the cave floor and splash through the puddles that gathered in the divvied bedrock.

The cart halted. Morgana tied the reigns of the horses, and used some rather unnecessary magic to manhandle her two captors to one corner of the cave, into crude prison cells, made up of stalagmites that she had no doubt magicked there for the purpose.

"I would sleep while you can," She said, "You have a big day tomorrow."

Even through the darkness, Merlin cast a look at Arthur. He hadn't yet commented on their adversary being _Morgana_, though Merlin knew he had to have noticed by now. If he'd thought about the matter at all, his thoughts were a mystery.

Morgana left at a brisk walk, her footsteps echoing down the corridors until they were gone completely. Somehow, the silence grew ten times more unbearable with her gone. Merlin found himself sighing.

"Well, this is a fine mess," his dry wit had always been a coping mechanism of sorts.

"I don't suppose you could magic us out of here?" Arthur asked, contempt and venom not really concealed at all. Merlin chose to overlook both.

"I can't, actually. These damned cuffs that she has me in keep me from doing magic." He jangled the chains in the darkness for emphasis, and rubbed where they touched his wrists "They rather hurt, actually."

"Oh," was all Arthur said, sounding a bit disappointed. Another moment passed in silence, before Arthur asked suddenly, "It's Morgana, isn't it?"

Up until that moment, there had been a faint background ambience of beating hearts, breathing, shifting, drafts, and the odd watery sound, but right then, it all stopped for a beat. Merlin didn't breathe for a moment, until he remembered he should probably answer. "Yes," He said plainly. There wasn't any reason to lie to Arthur, now. He added kindly, "She is not the same woman you grew up with, Arthur."

"And… and _she's_ magic too, is she?" Arthur's voice sounded strained. Merlin heard him sniff.

"Yes."

"What, did she learn it from-from _you_? Did you… did you both learn _together_?"

"Arthur-"

"Oh, this is…" he let out a humorless laugh. "just _rich_. Sorcerers. Both of you. All this time…"

"Arthur, neither of us _learned,_ it's-"

"Well, if you two are such… such _friends_, why not just make it official and _marry_ her, for heaven's sake!"

"Arthur Utherson Pendragon, you _shut the hell up_ right now and _listen_." Arthur _did_ shut up. It was too dark to tell if he might be listening. Merlin continued, "Morgana and I are similar in one way and one way only: neither of us _learned_ magic. We were _born_ with it. As I said, it was never 'just this once', Arthur. Magic is a part of who I am. I've always been magic. And…" Merlin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose where Arthur couldn't see, "And I really shouldn't be the one telling you this. Well, I should, but not… _me_. The younger Merlin should be having this conversation with you right now – and he _will, _eventually. So I'm going to cut through the apologies and explanations that he will gladly give you and cut to the facts. I am a warlock. A magician who never required any instruction in magic except to control the powers I already possessed. Morgana is the same. Her powers did not surface until after she was an adult, but they are nearly as strong as my own. However, she... she never learned to control them well. She couldn't. Not in Camelot. Not under your father. So she rebelled. She turned to the dark sorceress, Morgause, for instruction. Now, she is the last High Priestess left in Albion, and she is out for the blood of those she believes to have wronged her, including yours."

He'd decided to leave out all mention of Morgana's parentage, of Morgause's relationship to Morgana, of the plot against Uther, about the horrible drama that was the Pendragon family, but even so, the information that Merlin had given Arthur to ponder was heavy. It took a while before the Prince could respond. When he did, it wasn't in a way that Merlin would have ever guessed.

"And what about you?"

The question was so quiet and so different from what Merlin was expecting, it gave him pause.

"I'm sorry?"

"What about _you_, Merlin? What are _you?_" He was using that lost tone that Merlin knew, the one that was betrayal and curiosity fighting for dominance. "You said she was _nearly_ as powerful as you. If she is a High Priestess… Hell, Merlin, what _are_ you?"

Somehow, Merlin smiled. "A story for another time, I'm afraid." He let that sink in, before adding quickly, "But know, Arthur, know that there has always been more than one side to the world of magic. There is darkness and light in magic just as there are in men. There is good, and evil, commendable and damnable, and there is always a choice between the two for those who practice magic. Morgana chose to destroy, and to hate, and to never forgive. As for me… well, I didn't so much choose as I was _chosen_, really, so I can't take too much credit. But I was chosen to protect, and to make peace."

"Protect who? Make peace with _what_?"

"The Once and Future King, on both accounts."

"The _what?_"

"Oh, d'you need brushing up on your bedtime stories?"

"Lord spare me, _don't_."

"You never _were_ very keen at reading, were you?"

"And you were never good at explaining things with any sense of clarity, _Mer_lin."

"Fine. The other side of the coin, we'll call him."

"Merlin, you're not making any sense at all."

"Hmm," Merlin smiled to himself, "a trick I learned from an old friend."

"Right. Whatever. Whoever this Oncer-Future Coined King chap is, he sounds like a cryptic old bastard."

Merlin actually snorted. "Not _so _cryptic. Although, now that you mention, he is a bit of a _prat_."

And perhaps that got through the Oncer-Future Coined King's thick skull, because Arthur suddenly had nothing more to say.

* * *

><p>King Arthur and Merlin might have been facing the younger Morgana, but younger did not necessarily mean easier to outwit. She had, after all, grown up in the same tactics lessons as Arthur. She was smart. And, Merlin had the sneaking suspicion, she knew <em>exactly<em> where they were, whereas they couldn't find the slightest sign of her. She was to the left. No, right. No, behind. Merlin's head was aching horribly at the strain of trying to pinpoint her location, and Arthur's growing frustration wasn't helping. The knights were growing restless, because even without Merlin's magic, they knew she was close.

But Merlin knew she would keep them guessing until she got what she wanted. Merlin wondered if this was such a bad thing, after all. Eventually, he pulled Arthur off to one side.

"We have to give ourselves up," he said.

"_What?_!"

"It's the only way we'll get her to show herself. She has the upper hand right now, and she came for _us_, not _them_," Merlin gestured back to where the knights were all on guard. "She's bold, but not stupid. Even a sorceress won't go up against an entire company of knights, not when some might get away and sound the alarm to follow her."

Arthur was watching Merlin with an intense look, like he didn't _want_ to believe him, but was beginning to anyway.

"If we split off from them, give ourselves up, what is the worse that could happen?"

"She could kill us," Arthur said bluntly.

"She couldn't. She's not powerful enough to face me unaided – she knows that as well as I do," and it was almost refreshing for Merlin to brag on his own powers for once, "the most she could do is capture us and take us to her accomplice, the Older Morgana. Which, in turn, would bring us to _her_ captives. Which is exactly what we want." He looked straight into Arthur's eyes, and the King stared back, calculating. "If we don't, she'll wait until your men are tired, and slaughter them to capture us all the same."

Arthur's lips thinned, he stared some more, and then moved in a sudden burst of purpose back towards his men. "Leon, we've lost her. You and the knights move eastward and fan out a search. Merlin and I will go west. Sound the alarm if you find anything."

"But sire-"

"There's more eastward ground to cover, hence, more men. We will regroup at dawn."

"_Dawn_?"

"It's dark enough as it is, camp for the night when you need. Merlin and I will be fine." He and Leon locked gazes for a minute, challenging and questioning. Eventually, Arthur's expression softened into something almost pleading. "Please, Leon."

The knight stiffened his face and gave a barely perceptible nod. "Move out!" He called to the rest of the knights. "Find the sorceress!"

"Go," Arthur nudged Merlin, and the warlock didn't need any encouragement. He nudged his mare into a full gallop, to ensure Morgana would be drawn as far away from the knights as possible. She was after Arthur and Merlin alone, it was true, but Merlin didn't trust her with his friends regardless of intention.

It wasn't long before she cornered them. Her hand outstretched threateningly, she bid them to dismount, and they did so with surrendered hands.

"A wise decision, giving yourselves up," She sauntered up to them. "I won't kill you, of course." She smiled. "Well, _I_ won't. Not yet. I can't say the same for your sister, Arthur." She laughed, and Merlin cast a wary sideways glance at the King. He looked sad.

* * *

><p>Eventually, Prince Arthur had come back around to talking.<p>

"So if… if Morgana went bad, as you said,"

"Yes?"

"Well… why didn't you _help_ her?"

The question burned like a dagger in Merlin's chest, though Arthur probably didn't realize that. Merlin knew he'd tried to pad the question with some amount of gentleness, but it was like trying to soften the blade of an executioner's axe: It only made the execution hurt more.

"Do you know, Arthur," Merlin replied, his ego and conscience aching with every syllable, "my cowardice in regards to Morgana is the greatest regret of my life." When Arthur didn't say anything, he felt compelled to say, "I was too scared to help her. I was petrified. I knew she was magic, but I knew her powers were dangerous. I didn't know what she thought about it, what she would do to _me_, to _us_, if I told her about my own magic. She was _Uther's ward_. What was I to do?" He sighed. "Of course now I can think of five dozen things I could have done. I could have. But I didn't." _And I'm sorry, _went the unspoken finish, but the words had been repeated so many times that he wasn't sure they meant the same thing anymore.

Arthur said nothing. The softened axe fell for a second time.

Merlin closed his eyes, returning to that dark place that he'd sworn to his king that he'd never revisit. To that age-old regret, to the tears that rose in his eyes when he'd seen the unspoiled Younger Morgana weeks ago, to that anger at himself for his cowardice, to that urge to _fix, amend, heal_, in ways that were impossible but he'd be damned if he didn't try. Morgana had to be able to change. She had to. He'd told himself that often enough to make sure she could kill more people. He'd been naïve. He'd been too late. He'd been _wrong_, so wrong.

But then Merlin opened his eyes again.

Wait a minute.

He was in the past.

The _past_.

Younger Morgana was, for the most part, still _Morgana_. She was still only just beginning on the road to darkness – she still had space for redemption. He could try. He could _try_ to heal her, try to mend the road he'd neglected before. Fix his own failure.

So maybe they hadn't changed anything in this past world, as they'd determined earlier. But that didn't mean they _couldn't_ change anything, surely. He could change the past if he really _tried_. Surely. Why on earth would such a thing as time travel even exist if not to right the wrongs of yesteryear? Merlin felt himself warming to the idea, and a thousand ideas, a thousand speeches, a thousand ways to get Younger Morgana to _see_, all ran through his head at once. He could change this. He could. He felt like weeping, because there was hope intruding on his burden of guilt, and it made his mind spin.

So much so, that it took Arthur a couple of goes to get his attention.

"_Merlin!_" He hissed, the tone of annoyance hinting that he'd already said it at least three times. Merlin jumped and shook himself.

"What?"

"Do you hear that?"

He didn't have time to answer before Morgana was there. Her eyes glowed and their cages melted around them. She whispered a word and a glowing light came to life in the air, illuminating the room with a brightness that made the captives squint and blink. Arthur sucked in a gasp as he saw, really _saw_ Morgana le Fey for the first time. So alike, and so different from the woman he knew. Merlin felt sorry for him, but he also felt a certain steeliness to Morgana now, knowing that he would change her younger self later. He _would_.

"How did I know that neither of you would sleep?" She laughed a private thought. "Come along, then, big things to do. You ought not try to run, either of you. I've closed off the cave entirely, and should you try anything brash or stupid at all, I have only lift a finger and in your pain, you will _beg me_ for death. Am I understood?" She smiled at them, and Arthur was still reeling from her appearance, but Merlin only glared. This made her chuckle again. "Very well. Come along, then. Oh," She suddenly turned back toward Merlin. "How rude of me, Emrys. We'll be needing you out of these, of course," she touched the cuffs on his wrists and said a few words, and they clicked open and fell to the floor. Merlin rubbed his wrists, and neither Arthur nor Morgana noticed when he looked at them, panicked.

"I will not remind you again that the threat applies to _warlocks_ as well as kings," she cast a glance at Arthur. "Or should I say _Future Kings_. I still have the upper hand here, Emrys," she waved a hand through the air and Merlin's Elder Staff materialized into her grip. "I expect you to remember that."

She marched them out of the room and down a narrow corridor. Merlin walked compliantly behind her, and Arthur behind him. The light bobbing between them provided enough space away from Morgana that when Arthur jogged to catch up with Merlin and whisper with him, she couldn't hear.

"Alright, don't get me wrong, I don't like this magic thing one bit. I hate it. I'm mad at it and I'm madder at you, but… damnit, what am I turning into?" He sighed frustratedly and turned back to Merlin, "your shackles are off, Merlin, can't you just magic us out of this _now?_"

Merlin's face was actually _scared_. "No."

"Look, I know she said _not_ to, but I thought you were Lord Supreme of not following ord-"

"No, I mean I _can't_," Merlin hissed, growing mentally upset with his younger self, who was the only person who could have possible cut off the Borrower's connection. "I can't. My magic is gone. _Again_."

* * *

><p>AN: RIGHT. I'm pretty sure there will be 3 more chapters, the last of which I've actually already written. We'll see how this goes.

I realize that there will be a whole world of possibilities and interactions that I will not write into this story, and I'm sorry, but it's really a matter of feasibility and realism. There are just some things that I don't think would come up, some things that wouldn't really be resolved or figured out, and some things that don't need to be touched on. So I'm sorry if that one scenario you were hoping for doesn't end up in the final cut, that's just the way it goes.

Again, I'm super duper sorry for the long wait. You guys are patient if anything, and thank you for that.


	25. Through Lock and Key

A/N: Getting started is hard. It took me forever to figure out how to open this chapter, but once I got going… well, my fingers are kind of sore now. We're almost to the end! This chapter is, I think, the climax of the entire story. I hope to goodness that it makes sense, and doesn't feel out of place.

Welp, here we go!

* * *

><p>Tramping through the woods for a few hours in the dark of night would've been unpleasant regardless of circumstances. Being forced to do so under threat by Morgana, then, was doubly unpleasant. Neither king nor manservant had said much on the trek so far. Morgana was actually the first to speak.<p>

"I take it the _journal_ was informative, was it?"

Arthur jumped, and looked at Merlin before answering. "I can't say. I didn't read it."

"So it was Emrys, then."

"Yes," Arthur told her.

"Does he still have it?"

"No, he left it in Camelot."

"Good," Morgana smiled. "The delay might give us time to get there in time."

Merlin didn't like the sound of that. "In time?" He asked. Morgana tossed him a mock innocent look.

"Well, we don't want them to get started without us, would we?" She turned back around so they could only hear the smirk in her voice. "We'd end up missing all the fun."

* * *

><p>Emrys was sweating. He'd weakened his magic once or twice, and had even spent enough times in those damned dampening cuffs to know what it felt like to be powerless. But never once had he faced Morgana le Fey without magic. Never once had he lost complete control in the face of such darkness. And yet, here he was now, powerless, without the slightest idea of what the hell was going on.<p>

"Come along, then," Morgana herded them both down the stone halls, which were beginning to look more and more like they'd been hewn by human hands instead of nature, "best get started before it starts to get… testy." She glanced at the staff she still held, and it gave a slight sizzle, as if the magic inside was just _itching_ to get out.

The narrow hallway opened up into a huge, tall cavern that glowed with crystals of varying sizes. They weren't natural, Merlin realized. They were spaced evenly along the walls with intentionality - sconces. Morgana stepped forward into the cavern, leaving her captives behind. She looked up at one wall, the tallest of the room, which was incredibly smooth and unblemished in comparison to the bumpy waves of stalagmites and natural furrows that covered the rest of the room.

"What is this place?" Arthur asked quietly. Morgana turned.

"Did you _read_ Eornan's journal?" She asked smugly. Arthur shook his head.

"I did," Merlin told her, the pieces slowly clicking together. He looked around the room, noting how the floor sloped down and smoothed as it neared the tall wall, and how it was the most well-lit part of the cave. His eyes caught on a small raised pedestal near to where Morgana was standing, and the circular well that sunk in the middle. "The lock, I take it," he said, eyes flashing in the dim lighting to look up at Morgana.

"And the key," Morgana said, glancing at the staff meaningfully. "You haven't lost your touch, Emrys. Now, give me the journal, and we can get started."

Merlin pressed his lips together. "I don't have it," he said.

"You _what_?"

"I don't have it. It's in Camelot." He said. Then, feeling a rush of cheekiness that might've been compensating for his missing magic, added, "Oh, did you forget to grab it on your way out? I didn't know you'd be needing it, I was a bit busy being _kidnapped_."

She glared at him. "_Kidnapping _is the least of your worries, Emrys," She marched up to him until they were standing nose to nose. Arthur was watched wide-eyed but silent, more or less helpless to do anything at this point. "Now, I happen to know that of all the people in this world, Emrys, _you_ have a remarkably stubborn memory that doesn't like to forget much. So tell me, what exactly did Eornan say about this place?"

Merlin was taking great pains to straight ahead, anywhere but at her. "It is the place where he hid the secrets of time travel. He believed that they were too dangerous to leave in his journal, so took the final pages and hid them in a place where no one could find them, except the one who possessed enough power to use time travel properly."

"Very good," Morgana said, and brought the elder staff between them, sizzling with energy as it was. "And what of this, then?"

"A key. To unlock what he hid here. The knowledge of time travel."

Morgana began to smile, and then, she laughed. Behind the two sorcerers, Arthur would frown at the sound. It was nothing he recognized, not at all the laugh he'd enjoyed growing up. It was the first time he'd feel real sadness over Morgana. It wouldn't be the last.

"And to think I resented you for tagging along in my little _quest_. You've done it again, Emrys. Meddling in affairs that aren't your business. But this time, you're done playing the hero. This time, you'll help me be _Queen_."

_BANG!_ It was the sound of door clanging shut. Merlin and Arthur both jumped, but Morgana only turned. She listened attentively as several set of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Hastily, she waved her hand across her face and a black veil fell into place, obscuring her features.

"My lady," the Young Morgana's voice called as she came into the large cavern, "I was able to capture the time-traveling Arthur and his idiot servant at the rim of the forest."

"Ah, good," Le Fey told her. Prince Arthur frowned, because she was using a different tone than before, more high-and-mighty than when she'd been talking to Merlin and Arthur. He looked between Le Fey's veil and the Young Morgana's face, and his frown turned into a look of astonishment and hurt when he realized: Morgana didn't know. She didn't know that she'd been working for her older self this entire time. Le Fey's voice snapped through his thoughts, "were they alone?"

"They sent their party on a wild chase to the west, milady. They won't even think of looking for us until at least dawn. Even then, they will have no way to find us." She looked proud.

"Good." Le Fey waved a hand, and Morgana pushed Young Merlin and King Arthur forward until they were lined up shoulder to shoulder with their counterparts. "Now. Time for the show to begin." She brought the staff forward once again, waved it in front of Emrys' face tauntingly, and then turned with it toward the pedestal. It hissed with electric anticipation, and she held it aloft right over the welled pedestal. A loud hum grew in the room, and she let go. The staff floated mid-air atop the lock, and slowly sunk into place as the humming grew louder.

The noise in the room grew and gathered at an ear-deafening pitch, and blue-white bolts branched out around the staff like lightning. At last, the light and the sounds halted all at once. For a split second, all of them froze. They took a breath. In. Out. In.

And then, the world exploded again.

The smooth wall in front of them erupted into color, a dancing pool of blue and gold. Everyone had their eyes turned away, everyone except Emrys and Le Fey, who simultaneously realized what had just happened.

"A portal," Emrys breathed.

"A _portal_," Le Fey spat, and spun around, looking. "No! Where are the _notes_?" She looked all around the pedestal, across the bare room. "Where are the secrets to time and space? He _said-"_

"Nothing, actually." Emrys interrupted her calmly.

"What?" She rounded on him.

"Eoran never said anything about hiding the rest of his journal. He merely said he'd hidden the _secrets_. This, it seems," He gestured up at the yawning portal in front of them, "is his answer."

"The secret of time travel," she spun around to the portal again. "A _portal_…" She stared at it, then slowly, stepped forward, extending her hand out towards it. For a horrible moment, Merlin thought she was actually going to step through, but she pulled away suddenly. "No, I think not. Not _me_." She turned suddenly, and although they couldn't see her eyes past the veil, Emrys knew that she was looking at him.

"Getting lost in time wouldn't help me in the slightest. _You_, on the other hand, have served your purpose." She raised a hand and beckoned him forward. After a heartbeat, he stepped down towards her.

"No, Merlin – please, take me instead," Younger Merlin stepped forward. King Arthur grabbed an arm to hold him back. Emrys sent his younger self a thankful smile where Morgana couldn't see, but his eyes told him to stay.

"You'll get your chance, _Merlin_, don't you worry, you just can't go first. If I were to lose the _younger_ to the jaws of time and space, then the older would perish with you. But if I first sacrifice the _elder_," her eyes turned to Emrys, "I have at least two tries to get it wrong." None of them felt better about it for the fact. Emrys could hear her smiling, and imagined her to have that crazed look in her eyes when she said, "Go on, then. I have an appointment to change destiny," she said. Merlin glared at her. _Not if I change it first,_ he said, eyeing Younger Morgana, who was making a show of being stoic off in one corner.

Merlin cast a last glance at his younger self. He was utterly without magic. Whatever awaited him on the other side of the portal, he would be defenseless. Worst come to worst, his younger self would be responsible for getting Arthur to safety. He need to make sure the younger Merlin understood this. He nodded, and slowly, fearfully, Young Merlin nodded back.

Resolving himself, Emrys turned around, stepped up to the portal, and, ignoring the sudden protests from Prince Arthur, stepped through.

* * *

><p>If Merlin had had a year to compile a list of what he might expect a portal through time to be like, or of any possible destinations, he would have never, ever come up with this.<p>

The portal itself was a little under-stated for its imposing size an appearance. Stepping through wasn't entirely unpleasant- a little weightlessness, a pause, and then it was like stumbling through a curtained doorway into pure white that melted away to form the scene of…

…A cabin. A very messy cabin, that smelled of hickory and spices, and dust and… was that a _barricade_ in the center of the room? Taking a tenuous step forward, Merlin surveyed the massive wooden table that'd been set up on its side and the variety of miss-matched chairs thrown around to support it. He'd expected to feel sick in some way after falling through the vastness of time and space, but he felt fine as he stepped forward. His boot heels thudded on the floorboards, loud in a room devoid of sound save for the lonely clock ticking away in a corner. He came to a stop some feet in front of the odd barricade when he saw a trembling sword tip emerge over the top.

Then, hair. Messy hair. Eyebrows. Eyes.

"AH!" The man yelped, and leaped back behind his barricade. Merlin blinked, utterly nonplussed. "Whoever you are, whatever century you're from, I swear I'll help you, just please don't get hasty and blast me to bits!"

"Um," Merlin would later wish he'd come up with something more momentous to say upon entering an unknown time, "Eoran?"

The eyes poked back up over the barricade, and then a round nose, and then a hand that pushed a mop of brown hair back from his face. It looked even more wild for the effort. "Um. No. Well, I mean, yes, I know who that… that is, you must've found his journal to come here, but no, I'm not him." The man stood, and he was a lanky, disheveled person, short and wiry with a presence that made Merlin look like an emperor. He hauled up the sword he'd been brandishing.

"S-s-sorry about the uh, the sword," He said, hand trembling too much to sheath it in less than three tries, "your portal appearing there gave me quite a fright." He chuckled uneasily, and Merlin turned to see where he'd just come from. The portal was smaller on the wall of the house, but just the same colors as before. He turned back around as the rather shaken man was climbing past his barricade.

"When I set that thing up last week, I _never _expected anyone to come through so _soon_. If I may ask, are you from, very… very _far_ into the future?"

"That depends," Merlin said, and the man looked just slightly thrilled to hear this time traveler speak. "What year is it, now?"

"The year two-hundred and ninty-six," He said. Merlin's eyebrows rose. "And, eh… when are _you _from?"

He blinked. "Five hundred and twenty-four," he said.

The other man looked a bit pale. "Five hundred and… oh my stars…" he trailed off.

"Well, I mean, that's when I was when I _came _here. I'm actually from a bit further forward – Five hundred and thirty-nine, I've had a bit of a mix up and… are you alright?" He looked to the other man.

"Yes, yes, fine, fine, I'm… fine." He was covering his mouth and trying very hard not to smile. "It's only… two and a half centuries. You're from two and a half _centuries_ from now. That's really quite something, isn't it?"

"Have you not travelled through time before?" Merlin asked with a frown.

"What? Oh, of course I have. But I always _choose_ where I go, don't I? This, this is entirely new. I don't know who you are, or why you're here, or what you've been up to, and… oh, oh dear." He frowned. "I haven't introduced myself, have I? How rude of me. Sorry." He stepped forward and extended a hand. He was still shaking a bit. "My name is Earnan Golcar."

Merlin's face cleared into recognition, and he couldn't help but to smile back. _Earnan. Eoran's younger brother. You brother talked about you quite a bit, did you know? _He took Earnan's hand warmly. "It's an honor, Earnan. My name is Merlin."

"Merlin! Nice to meet you, do they name many people after birds in the future? Oh, gracious, did I say that out loud? Sorry. But eh, if I may ask, your name is Merlin… Merlin _What_, exactly?"

Merlin opened his mouth, stopped, and eyed Earnan. He was a _druid_, wasn't he? Did they have prophecies like that back in this century? This could be interesting. "Emrys. Merlin Emrys."

Apparently they _did _already have those prophecies, because if Earnan was pale before, he looked fit to faint now.

"Emrys…" He squeaked, and blinked. "Why not. Emrys. Of course. Emrys, in my house. Well, we've had enough momentous surprises today, why not make it an utter gobsmack? It is a true honor, Sir," he said, reaching to shake Merlin's hand again.

"Please, just Merlin," Emrys smiled.

Earnan eyed him and smiled. "Merlin, then. Um, care to tell me what you're doing here? That is, you obviously found my brother's journal, but what is it that drew you to come here – that is, to the cave, to find me?"

Merlin drew a breath, and sighed it out again. "You don't suppose we might sit down somewhere for a bit? This… will definitely take a while."

Earnan smiled, like the idea was an utter treat. "Please," he said, waving a hand. His eyes flashed and at once, the table and chairs barricade became a neatly-set dining area. "I'll put the kettle on."

* * *

><p>Merlin wasn't sure how long it'd taken to explain everything to Earnan, but they'd finished an entire teapot and a plate of biscuits by the time he reached the point in the story when he'd walked through the portal.<p>

Drawn out of his initial surprise by hours of conversation, Earnan was listening with rapt attention, frowning at some of the details of Merlin's tale. At long last, he bit into another biscuit and leaned back in his chair. Merlin sighed, and the two sat in silence for a few moments, recovering from everything they'd said and heard.

"That _is_ quite a mess you have there," Earnan said.

"Mmm. What I don't understand is, how did Morgana manage it? Time travel, that is. She traveled fifteen years into the past without consulting any of your brothers' studies. Is that possible?"

"Possible? Oh, yes." Earnan told him. "But at a gruesome price, I'd wager. I try not to dabble into anything involving the dark arts, so I know very little, but Eoran always said there was a dark version of every magick under the sun. Time travel surely has such parallels. If this Morgana is as far gone as you say, it is probable she bartered with the dark forces of the world to cheat through time. It's an unhealthy way to travel, of course, which is why you were injured for tagging along. Speaking of, how are you feeling these days?"

Merlin shrugged. "I _was_ fine, but I'm afraid I spoiled that again a few days ago. No magic to speak of."

"Hmm. I may be able to help you with that, but we'll get to that later. I understand, your main goal at the moment is to get home, is it not?"

"Without letting Morgana tamper with time, yes."

"Oh," Earnan scoffed, standing, "I wouldn't worry too much about _that_. It's just a matter of figuring out _how_. Which, obviously, you will." He took the dirty cups they'd been using and took them to the kitchen.

Merlin wasn't exactly sure what he'd meant by that, but chose to ignore it. "So, what do you think we should do?"

"Well, go back in there and kick out the dark magic, of course. This is your story to live out."

He wasn't sure what Earnan had meant by _that,_ either. "I'm not sure I can," he said. Earnan gave him an evaluating look.

"Where did you find a key, Merlin?"

"I made it."

"With your magic."

"With the magic of the _Crystal Cave_."

"It's the same thing, you know."

And Merlin actually _did_ know, but he blushed because those kinds of lofty thoughts embarrassed him.

"Your magic is not gone, you see, it just needs a little kick-start." Earnan stood again, and stepped over to the mantel piece above the fireplace. "Here," he said, turning and handing a bundle of something to Merlin. "This is what my brother used to open the first successful time-space portal. I still use it for the same purpose. It contains powerful magic."

Yes it certainly _did_, because Merlin could feel it already through the cloth. He unwrapped it, and an unassuming rock fell into his hand. It was incredibly heavy. "What is it?"

"A moonstone. A meteorite, to the more science-y folk. A piece of another world." Earnan was looking at it fondly. "I do wish I could visit such worlds."

"Maybe you will, someday…" Merlin trailed, his voice fading off when he touched the rock. It was like warmth flooding into an ice storm, seeping life into his cold bones. Earnan was smiling at him.

"You just hold on to that for now, alright? You'll feel better in no time. Now," Earnan sunk back into his chair, "once you get back to the cave, the first thing you'll need to do is take that staff of yours out of the lock. It should come easily enough for you, that little fellow there will give you enough energy to override the forces holding it," Earnan pointed to the meteorite, "That will reset the portal. After that, it's up to you to keep this Morgana in check, subdue her, if possible. You'll want to take her back to her time as well, obviously. Then…" He sighed. "You'll want to leave as soon as you can. It's for the better of everyone. I have something you'll need for that." He stood and left the room. When he came back, he held something in his hand.

He spread it out on the table. It was a small piece of paper. "This is the spell that makes the portal take it where you want to go."

Merlin peered over at it and touched the corner reverently to read it. He frowned. "But it's in two parts," He said, shaking his head. "This one's a transportation spell, but the first bit is…"

"A memory spell," Earnan said, and he sounded sad. "Yes, yes it is." Merlin looked up at him.

"To make them forget," he realized out loud.

"Yes."

And suddenly, not remembering made sense. But… after all that had happened, after all they'd said and done… it hurt. "But… why?"

Earnan looked down for a moment. "It's something I had to come up with on my own." He looked back up. "You never asked why Eoran isn't here, you know. Not that I really blame you for not noticing. It's a small detail amongst it all, of course."

Merlin was almost afraid to ask. "No, I didn't. …Why isn't he here?"

Earnan sighed. "Years ago, when my brother finally achieved time travel for the first time, it was completely uncharted territory. We explored it together, and had fun with it. We interacted with people centuries beyond our lifetimes," _Gaius_, Merlin thought to himself. "And we never had any problems sinking back to our time with no one the wiser. For the first several years, we would travel together, to the far future and the far past, but never too close to home. Eventually, Eoran demanded to go on more trips, and I grew exhausted from the travelling. I let him go on his own." He paused, and looked into nothing for a moment before continuing. "He'd grown bored with the far-off times. He began travelling nearer to our own lives. I'm not sure where all he'd gone when he stumbled upon it. He'd been spying on himself and me, for the fun of it. He never told me about it. And I'm not sure how far into the future he got, but sometime, he traveled to the time when I will die."

Merlin couldn't help it when he tensed up.

"I don't know when it is, or how," Earnan said, fiddling with his fingers, "But my brother came back a changed person after that. I'd never seen him so determined about anything, not even time travel. He grew obsessed with the idea of changing the future, of making sure I didn't die that day. When he wasn't travelling, he would watch me like I was already dead.

"The trips he took after that were part of a long and painful revelation: it is impossible to change the past. Or the future. Things must be as they have always been, and will be. Some things are bound to fate. Destined, if you will."

Merlin was staring at him, blood pulsing through his head condemningly. _Morgana_, his heartbeat chanted at him, _Morgana, Morgana, you failed her, you failed her, again, again._ He didn't want Earnan to see that there were tears coming into his eyes. "Destiny…" He said with bitterness in his voice. "But… how do you _know_? How do you _know_ it can't be changed?"

"Because he tried. Good god, did Eoran try. He must've travelled hundreds of times, and it never helped. He didn't like telling me about it, but I know he always failed to save my life. It drove him mad – completely, utterly mad. He'd grown so obsessed with saving me in the future, he forgot how to love me while I'm still around. And in doing so, he lost me sooner, because he withdrew himself from everything but my impending death." Earnan looked away. "He's in the madhouse, now. Looked after. Cared for. His mumblings don't mean anything anymore." Earnan paused again, and his face no longer looked like an accomplished magician, only like a sad little brother who had never really stopped mourning. "He doesn't recognize me when I go to see him." Eventually, he looked back over at Merlin and said, very quietly, "Bad things happen to those who meddle with time, Merlin."

Merlin stared, heart dropping steadily to his feet. He sank back in his chair.

"That is why I made the memory spell to attach to the portal's magic. The portal itself pushes magic through all of space at a particular time – all encompassing, so you don't end up with just a _patch_ of the future or past, you get the whole world of a particular time. The memory spell uses this burst of power as a booster. It's simple, but potent. Just specify a time frame, and it will fix the memories of everyone in the world to forget you were ever here."

_Forget. _Merlin was staring off into space. He was angry. Was this it, then? All of this? All of this pain, and puzzling, and agony over _changing_ things, and then _not_ changing things, and then _wanting_ to change things for Morgana, and all the talking with Young Merlin and Prince Arthur… and now, it just all went away for good, and was supposed to be _alright_ with that?

He shook his head. "Then…. Why?" He asked, angrily. "Why bother? Why is time travel even possible? If I'm just supposed to make everyone _forget_, if I'm just supposed to… to _leave_, then why on earth is time travel even possible? No. No, I can't just… I can't _abandon her _ again, I-" He realized what he'd said and stopped, biting his lips. Earnan was looking at him gently.

"You found something that you wanted to change?"

"My biggest regret," Emrys said pathetically from where his eyes were trained on the table. Earnan reached across and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"But _why?" _Merlin insisted again, voice breaking, unable to meet the other man's eyes.

"I said this spell fixes the memories of those it touches. I never said I knew exactly _how_." When Merlin looked up at him with an utterly bewildered look, he smiled a bit. "I did say it was a simple spell, didn't I? It affects everyone a little differently, I suspect. We can't change things about the past or the future, not really. But even when we do our best to make it easy for everyone – stay out of sight, erase memories, remove all trace of our presence, there is a part of the world that neither space nor time nor magic can touch." He reached out and planted his index finger against Merlin's chest, right at the end of his sternum, to the part of his core that ached for the loss of Morgana. "Just here," He said. "There is a hidden _something_ in the world, in all of us, that answers to something far greater." He withdrew his hand. "And I'm not sure how it works, and I'm not sure I ever will be, but even time travel has its purpose in destiny. Even if we can't change the events of history, I believe we can change… _something_."

Merlin was frowning. "What?" He asked, afraid to raise his voice above a whisper.

"I'm not sure," Earnan straightened up. "But I'll let you know if I ever find out."

Merlin let out a humorless laugh, and dropped his head into his hands. It was a long silence before either of them spoke again.

"I'm surprised she hasn't sent the younger me in after by now," Merlin said, his voice a bit raw.

Earnan actually laughed. "Of course not," he tapped a finger to his nose. "Time travel, you see. I pre-spelled that portal to bring you here with the intention of having a good sit-down with anyone who stumbled through with the intention to go time-travelling. A safety brief, if you will. But, I figured I didn't want to steel any time away from you for the inconvenience, so I made sure it's a non-parallel time-link."

"A _what?"_

"Basically, when you pop off through that door, you'll end up in the cave just a few minutes after you came in."

Merlin stared. His eyebrows rose. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Headache? Yeah. Sorry. It is rather confusing, now that I think of it. Now, come on," He gently pried Merlin up out of his seat. "I'll take this back, if you don't mind," He took his meteorite back and put it in a pocket. "And here," He pressed the folded page of spells into Merlin's hand, and carefully closed his hand around it. "Use it wisely with that staff of yours." He looked into Merlin's eyes and nodded. "You may not be able to change anything, Merlin, at least, not in the way you want to. But you can do good by what's right in front of you. You understand?" Hesitantly, Merlin nodded back. Earnan smiled. "Good man." He patted Merlin's hand. "Now, go on." He sniffed, and nudged Merlin to the portal.

"Don't lose those spells, or I shan't ever forgive you. Memory one first, transportation second. Give a time frame for the memory one, and a date for the transportation one. To pinpoint the second, draw on your memories, focus on _being_ there. It'll make the landing softer."

"Right," Merlin said, somewhat numbly. He wiggled his fingers, and felt his magic sing back to him. It was fainter than normal, but there.

"It's been a true honor to meet you, Merlin Emrys. I should've liked to get to know you better."

"Well, who knows?" Merlin put on a smile. "Maybe someday you will." Earnan laughed and nodded, and Merlin smiled back, genuine this time. "Thank you, Earnan."

"Good luck."

Merlin turned away toward the portal, taking a deep breath. Could he do what he had to do? Would his magic be strong enough? Was all of this really _worth it?_

"Oh, and Merlin?"

He turned.

"You'll be fighting a Dark Magic when you get back, Dark Magic that's stolen my brother's hard-earned research. Do me a favor?"

"…Yes?"

Earnan smirked. "Kick its ass for me."

Merlin gave him a small smile. "I'll do my best." He disappeared through the doorway and the portal closed behind him.

Alone in his cabin, Earnan sniffed and patted the meteorite in his pocket. "Five hundred and thirty-nine," He mused to himself.

* * *

><p>AN: WOW. This chapter is freaking LONG. The story is just shy of 5,000, and with the A/Ns it's even longer.

Time travel is a really complicated thing, and I hope I've done it at least a little bit of justice in this story. I've been asked if I'm using the Back To the Future model or the Prisoner of Azkaban model or the Doctor Who model, and truth is, I wasn't really thinking of any one of them in particular when I was writing this, but if any, mind is closest to Prisoner of Azkaban, because it is honestly the most logical structure of time travel out there. Still, I'm hoping I've put my own spin on things.

Only one more proper chapter left, and then the epilogue, which I've already written.

Hope y'all have enjoyed this chapter! We're almost done!

P.S. After proof-reading this, I started getting some serious Nazi-in-_Raiders of the Lost Ark_ vibes from Morgana in the first half. Y'all will have to tell me if you agree on that one or not.


	26. Already Happened

A/N: Here we go, the last real chapter. It's a monster, even longer than the last one. THERE WILL BE AN EPILOGUE so don't tune out completely after you're done with this one. I wrote the epilogue months ago, but have obviously been waiting to publish it. Thanks for sticking with this story, even through the super infrequent updates, the weird plot, the plot holes, the stuff I put in that you didn't want and the stuff you wanted me to put in that I didn't. I really do appreciate it.

Enjoy this last chapter.

* * *

><p>Merlin counted his heartbeats as he waited to arrive back in the future-past, steeling himself for whatever he would find on the other side.<p>

_One._ Breathe. _Two._ He could do this. _Three._ He _could._ _Four-_

All at once, he was back, and the light of the portal melted into the dimness of the cave. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but once they did, he came face to face with his younger counterpart, who was staring at him in mixed panic and relief. Le Fey's hand was at the scruff of his neck, and she looked as though she'd been hauling him toward the portal when his older self had suddenly reappeared.

"_Merlin!_" Arthur said.

"_You._" Le Fey spat, breath stirring her veil. Even through the dark curtain, Merlin could practically _feel _her glare.

Merlin realized that Morgana hadn't _expected _him to return. He didn't understand exactly what had motivated her to send him through the portal first. Perhaps it was a sick curiosity, experimentation, or perhaps just a wish for him to be out of the picture. Notwithstanding, whatever she thought might happen, she hadn't intended for him to be _back_.

Merlin's mind had only seconds to figure out what to do. He had his magic back, yes, but only in part. He wasn't sure how long it would last him, but he needed to something now, something _big_, before Morgana could stop him. Looking away from Morgana and to the staff, still hovering in its place, he yelled,

"_Áflíegung!" _The staff flew out of the lock with an arch of energy, and clattered to the cave floor.

"_NO!"_ screeched Le Fey, throwing Merlin down to the floor and rounding on Emrys. Prince Arthur rushed to aid his servant, whilst the king stood watching the two sorcerers, trying to find a good way to help if need be.

"_Cymþ!" _Morgana said, palm held open. The staff leaped into her hand, and almost immediately, she turned it and, with a wordless scream, knocked Emrys off his feet with a shockwave. His head cracked hard against the wall, and he fell to the ground in a heap. She left him there and whirled around in a rage, not hesitating a second before she took the staff in both hands and blasted a shot of lighting at the king.

"My kingdom will have to wait with the portal," She said, striking another blow. It sizzled the air, and Arthur screamed when it grazed his arm.

"Arthur!" Young Merlin screamed, even though the Prince was at his side.

"But you, _you _will finally die. _Fir!" _fire shot in a lava-like stream at the king, who was holding his injury and scrabbling against the stone.

"I _will be rid of you_," She was crazed, complete and utter madness spitting at the back of her veil, "_gicel!_" This time, ice. It hit his side, then his ankle, binding him to the cave wall.

"I _will reclaim my birthright!" _she raised the staff again, and slammed it down diagonally across the space in front of Arthur. His head slammed sideways, as if hit. "_Ceorfsæx!" _He was hit again, and Arthur screamed, unable to move. Blood appeared on a cut across his chest. "_Swingel! Dolg! Néadhád cwealm!" _With each word, Le Fey swung the staff against her half-brother, magic slamming against him in a relentless torrent. The first few times, he'd screamed, but now his body was in too much shock to respond. _"Cwealm, cwealm, cwealm!" _She swung again, and again, and again.

The onlookers could hardly move. Merlin was desperately calling to Arthur, although he might not've realized it. Prince Arthur was holding him back, because he knew she would kill him, but he couldn't draw his eyes away from what was happening to his future self.

Off to one side, Morgana was watching her lady with a look of terror, of confusion. She glanced at the king and tried to school her expression into something sinister, something satisfied. Her eyes flashed with uncertainty and panic.

Emrys was unconscious where he'd fallen. Merlin cast glances between his older self and the dying king, and eventually, threw all caution to hell and threw Arthur off his shoulder.

"Merlin!" The prince called, but Merlin was charging up to Le Fey, placing himself between the bloody king and his attacker.

"_Bordrand!" _He yelled, splaying his hands out in the air. When his eyes glowed gold, he wouldn't give a thought to the fact that Arthur would see. Le Fey's spell hit and shattered against Merlin's shield, but Arthur could see his servant wince. It hurt him. Even through his shield, Merlin's time was limited. Arthur had to do something. He looked over at Emrys, who was still lying motionless on the floor. He looked up at Morgana, to the face that he'd once known, now growing darker than he knew. He wanted to scream at her, or to cry, he wasn't sure. He glanced between her and her older self. But she _didn't know_, he remembered. She didn't _know _who it was that was beating him to death, threatening the lives of Merlin and the Future King.

Not thinking much beyond that point, Arthur threw himself at Le Fey in a flash, hands going for her head, finding purchase in her thick veil. He ripped it off in a heave that sent him rebounding to the floor. She screamed in rage, and when Arthur rolled back onto his feet, she was there, wild black hair like a lion's mane over a murderous, insane glare.

Inexplicably, silence filled the room as she stalked closer. Le Fe didn't seem to care that she'd been exposed, that Morgana had recognized her, but Arthur had to look over at his father's ward. Morgana was staring in horror, breathing hard, because she'd suddenly _realized_. She looked at Le Fey, and back at the king, and to Merlin, who looked fit to collapse after exerting himself for the shielding spell. Her eyes inevitably found Le Fey again, and her expression was making strange movements. Now shaking her head, now lifting her chin, now swallowing, now looking for a place to run.

"You," Le Fey hissed, gripping the staff in her hand with a force that made it sizzle. "Little _brother_," She spat, and shook her head as if that was the only charge she had to muster to condemn him. She raised her staff against him, as she had with the king.

Of course, Merlin _had_ to be an idiot again.

"_NO!_" And he was suddenly there. "_Bordrand!" _Hands out in front, and from the protected side, now, Arthur could see the shimmering sphere that had appeared around him. In a sudden and untimely realization, Arthur remembered the spell he'd used – 'bordrand' – it was the same word that Emrys had said the night they'd been kidnapped, the night he'd lost his magic again. Merlin had _shielded him_ the whole time, Arthur realized, just as he was doing now.

Merlin's scream brought him out of it. The servant was crumpling, but his shield didn't falter.

"Merlin, _stop it!_" Arthur said, worried for a his friend, unnerved by magic, and, for the first time in the time in their friendship, powerless to protect.

"She'll kill you, you know that." Merlin gritted out, falling to his knees at the next blow. The sound of Le Fey's screaming was muffled through the shield, and it made it all so much more unnerving.

"She'll kill _you_, Merlin, for god's sake, _stop it!_" He was screaming, because Merlin was his friend. He'd gotten in Merlin's face, although Merlin couldn't see it with his eyes squeezed shut. Sweat dripped down his face, and after another blow, the protective shield around them flickered and fell, just for a moment. Merlin moaned in pain before forcing it up again.

"No," He said, stronger than Arthur had ever heard him, "No. Have to…" the staff slammed into the barrier, and he screamed. "…protect…" he opened his eyes, and although he hadn't meant to stare into Arthur's eyes, that's what happened. The Prince was shaking his head, not sure what to protest first. Merlin's shield disappeared again, this time just before a blow. Not moving from Arthur's, Merlin's eyes changed into a look of terror and apology as the staff came down.

Acting instinctually, Arthur grabbed Merlin and threw the servant behind himself, spreading his arms protectively, even without a weapon. Morgana didn't care who she was hitting now, and brought the staff down again with a scream. Arthur winced.

"_ÁLYNE!" _And just like that, the magic hum in the room was sucked away. As Le Fey brought the staff down, it clattered uselessly against the floor. After a moment of pure shock, Arthur looked up. Emrys had hauled himself to his feet. His face was half covered in blood, hair sticky from where he'd hit his skull. It was beginning to fall down his neck and stain his collar, but he was obviously doing his best to ignore it.

Arthur was too busy staring to see the real and fear that came into Le Fey's eyes, but Morgana saw it, and froze as well. Then, the anger came welling back in a tidal wave, and Le Fey turned her wrath on Emrys, screaming. Emrys actually stepped _into_ her assault, hand extended.

"_Á__lynest," _he said, _"Ic béo þín __ágend; __cume!"_

Seemingly of its own accord, the elder staff wrenched itself from Morgana's hands and flew into Merlin's waiting palm, where he gripped it tight and breathed in, his head going up and jaw setting in a powerful way Arthur thought would make the greatest of kings shudder.

"No more," he said, voice low and commanding. "No more, Morgana," he was shaking his head.

Le Fey, hair a mess and seems ripped in her clothes, was seething, staring in anger and shock at her enemy. "Emrys," She hissed, unable to do anything. "_Emrys!"_ She yelled, and Arthur realized that she had tears running down her face." Emrys looked back at the King, and then at Merlin and Arthur. Simultaneously, they both heard his voice in their heads.

"_GO._"

Merlin shot away in Le Fey's distraction, exhausted as he was, and ran to King Arthur. The Prince was entranced by the confrontation, and took longer to go over.

"Come on, come on," Merlin was muttering over the king when Arthur got there. "Come on, you've got to wake up," Merlin was moving his hands and saying strange words over the king, his eyes an odd color, but Arthur hardly noticed, because he was watching Le Fey and Emrys face each other. One was covered in blood, the other in tears. Arthur could see Morgana still standing unmoving at the back of the room, watching in what he could only describe as complete shock.

"My _kingdom!_" Morgana screeched at him. The ground shook. _"My birthright!_" She tossed her arms, and the walls shook, this time.

"Come on, come _on!_" Merlin said at Arthur's side.

"_I will change my destiny!_" She screamed.

"No," was Merlin's rebuttal, surprisingly calm in the moment. "No, Morgana, you can't." Saying her name was a knife to them all, because her younger self was standing not far away. "You cannot change the past."

"I can," She insisted. "I _will_. I _must!_"

"But you _can't_!" Emrys yelled. "You can't, Morgana. For the love of heaven, Morgana, don't you think I would have changed it already if it were possible?!" Arthur suddenly realized that Emrys was nearly as emotional as Le Fey was. "I would have! I wanted to! I would have _died_ to!" He drew himself in. "But you cannot toy with time, Morgana, not without paying a horrible price." His eyes flashed with severe pity as he regarded her. She'd gown even more insane for her trip into the past, even farther gone, even more pained and hurt.

She was twitching, chest heaving, head shaking. "No." She said. "_No." _"You are _weak_. You are unwilling to taste true power in _all_ magic, Emrys, _I_ have no such fear. I _will conquer destiny itself_."

Merlin was shaking his head at her sadly, and it enraged her.

"Uhrrmmn," King Arthur was coming around under Merlin's healing spells, and he lifted his head just in time to see his half-sister reach toward the sky and scream. There were words, too loud to understand, and the room began shaking.

"Morgana!" Emrys yelled, reaching for her. In a flash of light, Le Fey was gone, and Emrys with her.

"Merlin!" The ground continued to tremble beneath them, and it spread to the walls, the ceiling. Rock crumbled down.

"It's coming down around us," the King told himself and his younger friend as they hauled him up between them, even as tired as they all were. "We have to get out of here, _now_."

"What about Merlin?" Merlin asked.

"Just _go!_" The king yelled to hide the fact that he was worried, too.

They hauled themselves up, supporting the king between them, and moved as fast as they could to the exit. Nearly there, light flashed through the cavern. The Prince did a double take, realizing that Emrys had reappeared, but was not following them. Le Fey was nowhere to be seen. The King saw his younger self look back, and he twisted his neck around as well.

"Merlin!" He shouted over the rumble, "Merlin, come on!" Rubble and boulders were falling around them.

Inside Emrys' head, the world was muffled except a rising ultimatum of conscience. He was staring at the place where Le Fey had been, her last words echoing in his head, words that only he had heard. She was dead. Slowly, as if through something thicker than air, his eyes drifted up, and he saw Morgana, young, terrified, confused Morgana. The room was collapsing. She wasn't moving. He was so, so tempted.

He was Emrys. He could make this earthquake stop, if he wanted to. He could halt time itself, he could walk over and take her by the hand, he could take her with them, apologize, warn, teach, _forgive_. He could redeem her. He could, if he wanted to. He was Emrys, and he held the elder staff imbued with magic from the Crystal cave. He was a time traveler, now, and he knew the course of destiny. He could, couldn't he?

…_Should_ he?

"_Merlin!" _the familiar voice sounded muffled, and he paid it only peripheral attention. _"Merlin, it's going to come down, we have to get out now!" _

"_T__hings must be as they have always been, and will be,"_

"_Merlin! Get out of there!"_

"_Bad things happen to those who meddle with time, Merlin."_

"_You can't do it, Merlin!"_

"_He's in the madhouse, now."_

"_You can't change the past!"_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_MERLIN!"_

A huge _CRA-ACK _ broke through Merlin's consciousness, and when he looked up at the collapsing ceiling, he was looking through the tears that had begun to fall down his face. He was out of time. Suddenly wanting to sob, he looked back to Morgana. "I'm sorry," he told her, though she couldn't hear. Using what energy he had left, he used magic to push her away, past the danger of the cavern room and into the tunnel that she'd entered from on the other side. Rocks fell in a cascade in front of him, and Merlin finally turned and ran.

* * *

><p>They found a comfortable hillside to rest on not too far away from the cave. The sun was rising outside, and all of them seemed disoriented, because it hard to keep track of passing time whilst in a dark cave. Emrys especially seemed out of wits, but it wasn't the sunrise that was bugging him.<p>

He saw to all their wounds with what magic he could coax from the depleted staff. His own magic was run nearly dry, as was Merlin's, but he managed enough to heal the King so he could walk, and to get his own head wound to stop bleeding. As he moved his hands over Arthur's injuries, the King watched him quietly.

"I thought I'd lost you there, for a second."

"I could've shielded myself form the rocks," Merlin said plainly.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Merlin looked up to him, and realized that Arthur had seen into his thoughts, known what he'd been considering when he watched Morgana across the cave. He blinked back his emotions and turned his attention back to Arthur's wounds. "Where did she take you?" Arthur asked.

Merlin stopped his movements, and glanced back to where Arthur and Merlin sat a ways away. They were wrapped up in treating their own wounds, too busy to eavesdrop.

"Camlann," he said quietly, "where she died." Arthur looked shocked, but he said nothing, and let Merlin continue. "When I killed her the first time, she didn't die right away, that's what she told me. She was able to get away. Use magic, the darkest of dark magic, to heal herself. She found slivers of Eoran's research and used it to travel through time, to us, and then back here."

"Why go back?" Arthur asked at length.

Merlin wouldn't look at him. "She realized that it was over. She knew I'd come with her." It took him a moment to say, "She made me kill her, Arthur."

"Made you," Arthur tried to keep his voice accusatory. Merlin's face contorted, like he was trying not to cry.

"She was weak. Drained. She could barely move, she'd been living on dark magic so long, she was nearly gone, but not dead. She had a knife… she… she was going to end her own life. I-" He had to stop and collect himself. "I was trying to stop her, I grabbed her hand..." He had to stop again because his gut was trying to make him sob. "She was waiting for it. She put my hand on the dagger and pulled, made… made _me_ do it." He was biting his lip. "She said I was no better than her, trying to change destiny. And she was right, you know." Merlin said. "After all this… I've killed her after all." He really _did_ start crying then, slowly, tearfully, then all at once. His back started to shake and he couldn't stop. Emrys brought a hand up to his mouth and hoped that the younger men wouldn't realize that the great sorcerer was crying because he'd failed to do something he knew was impossible anyway.

Burned, aching, and tired, Arthur didn't care about tears or potential eavesdroppers, and sat up to put an arm around his friend. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry." Merlin didn't cry for too long, but let Arthur hug him anyway, because he thought he needed it. Eventually the king let him sit back up and Merlin wiped at his eyes and nose, looking anywhere but at Arthur.

"What made you turn back?" Arthur asked softly.

"Advice from an old friend," Merlin told him, and chuckled despite everything. "A _very_ old friend."

Arthur didn't know what he was talking about, but he wasn't inclined to ask. "Well, whatever it was," Arthur said, nodding slowly, "I'm proud of you, Merlin."

Merlin only sniffed, and nodded. This all had already happened, he told himself as he wrapped Arthur's worst burns and cuts that wouldn't heal all the way. All this, the cave, the portal, Morgana, Le Fey, it had all already happened, whether they remembered it or not. Arthur and Merlin would make it back to Camelot, they would grow up to understand each other. They would create Albion. He and his king would live out their lives as they should. It had already been written down in the annals of destiny. It had already happened. Morgana would escape from the cave. She would find her way back to Camelot. She would fulfill her destiny, pitiful and horrible as it was. She would die.

It had already happened, Merlin told himself. It was his comfort and his curse.

* * *

><p>They rested through noon. After the day's events and toll on his magic and emotions, Emrys fell into a nap. When he woke, King Arthur was there tending a fire that had a spit set up above it.<p>

"Ah good, you're up. You're far better with seasonings than I."

"…Seasonings?"

"Yes, your young self has somehow managed to magic up some spices. Arthur's found a stream nearby teaming with trout, and has promised us a good hearty luncheon. Although, I can't actually remember if I was good fisherman back then… er, back… now. He might need your help."

"…Oh," was all Merlin could think to say. In the end, Arthur didn't need any help. He and Merlin came walking up the hill together sometime later, two large trout slung over Arthur's shoulder. It didn't really hit Merlin that the younger two were _talking with each other_ until he was nearly hallway through with his lunch.

Arthur knew about Merlin's magic. He'd learned about it from Emrys, and seen it through his own manservant. Emrys _knew_ he had.

Emrys suddenly wondered if they'd talked about it at all, maybe while they were down by the stream together. What had they said? What did Arthur think, now? He could only imagine. In the present, Prince Arthur, having finished his own portion, was grabbing at Merlin's unfinished meal and Merlin was trying to keep it away. A squabble followed, but the older men watching knew Arthur was smiling. Merlin looked away from the scene, and odd feeling in his chest, and glanced back towards the King. The older Arthur looked almost humbled, and met Merlin's look with a small nod. Something calm settled over Merlin's troubled center, and he nodded back.

After lunch, it was time to find a way back.

"Can't you just… I don't know, zap us back to Camelot somehow?" King Arthur asked as they walked together. Merlin sighed at him, walking with the staff in hand.

"No. Normally, yes, but my magic is nearly gone again, and M…." He paused, struggling with the name. No one mentioned it when he couldn't say it. "…_she_ took just about all the juice out of this," he shook the staff for emphasis.

"I'm feeling alright," Young Merlin said helpfully, "maybe I could."

Before either Arthur or his servant could look to hopefully, Emrys cut them off. "No, you couldn't. I'm sorry, Merlin, but teleportation magic is extremely dangerous, and you haven't even _seen_ the right spell yet, much less tried it. It'll take you _years_ to learn to teleport yourself, let alone a company of four." Merlin looked slightly put out, but not really hurt. They walked in silence for a bit. After a while, King Arthur asked,

"...Do you even know which _way_ Camelot is from here?"

"Of course, but we're not going there yet," Merlin told him.

"Where are we going, then?"

"The Crystal Cave. We'll need to recharge this staff in order to go home."

The word changed the mood of their trek. _Home_. He meant Camelot, of course, but two different Camelots, from two different homes. Their journey was nearly at its end.

* * *

><p>Reaching the Cave took them nearly to nightfall. Arthur would've thought they'd be farther away from Camelot, but apparently Morgana had been hovering rather close to her former home ever since she'd arrived here. It didn't take <em>too<em> long to replenish the staff's magic, but it did take a fair bit of coaxing and eye-rolling for both Arthurs to get their respective Merlins up and off the grassy knoll and stop babbling about how _wonderful_ it was. Prince Arthur was a bit bewildered by the experience, but King Arthur only shook his head and hauled Merlin along by his arm, because he'd learned long ago that the Crystal Cave could reduce even the most dignified sorcerers into giddy lunatics.

"Alright, alright," Merlin said annooyedly, shooing the king off after a while. He adjusted the elder staff in his grip. "Next stop, Camelot."

"You don't think we should _rest_ for the night?" Prince Arthur said, casting looks at the dark skies around them.

"No need. Gather around, and hold on to my arm."

They all did as told, and Emrys wrapped both hands around the staff and held it straight. His eyebrows came down suddenly in a frown, and he glanced at Prince Arthur at his elbow. "Arthur, you get motion sick easily?"

"Uh… what?"

"Well, I suppose we'll find out," Emrys shrugged. Arthur was frowning, now.

"What does that have to do with anyth-"

They disappeared in a whirl.

They reappeared in the throne room of Camelot, in the middle of what looked like an emergency council. The king and his lords were dumbstruck by the sudden arrivals, perhaps more so because Emrys' eyes were still gold with magic, staff buzzing with energy.

"Merlin!" Gaius stood to his feet first, smiling with relief.

"_Sorcery_…" Uther stood, slowly. Gaius shot him a look and suddenly had the sense to be scared for his ward.

"You… you are a _sorcerer!_" Uther raised his voice. "_Merlin Emrys_." The king turned his gaze from Emrys to the young Merlin, his eyes flashing first with disbelief, and then accusation. Suddenly blanching because his nightmares were coming true, Merlin turned to his older counterpart for help.

Emrys was looking down at his younger self with a triumphant, almost mischievous glint in his eyes. Merlin couldn't understand why he was smiling. Then, his own older voice echoed in his head. "_I'll let you have that victory on your own time. But for now, take my arm again."_ Merlin did as he was told, and Emrys backed up a step away from the Prince and grabbed King Arthur's arm.

He didn't deign to answer Uther, and nodded instead to Gaius. "Thank you, Gaius, for everything. He smiled at the physician, and nodded. "I'll see you back home. And Arthur…" He turned toward the prince and trailed off. He wasn't sure what he could say, _should_ say. It would all be said eventually, on their own time. "Well," he shrugged, "you should've figured it all out by now." The Prince smiled at him, and nodded. Emrys smiled back, and then, before Uther could lunge for his sword, King, Sorcerer, and servant disappeared in a flash.

They reappeared in Emrys' visitor's quarters. They could hear a ruckus echoing from downstairs, Uther's voice chief among the squabble. The alarm bells began to ring.

"Arthur, could you guard the door?" Merlin asked. The king nodded, drew his sword, and stepped outside. Merlin turned and looked about the room. "Now," he said, "where _is _that journal?" He brushed around the room, and his younger self watched him curiously for a moment before pitching in.

"Here it is," the younger told the older, producing the small book from where it'd fallen on the floor.

"Ah, yes, thank you." Merlin took it and held it carefully, patting it almost fondly. He looked at it silently for a moment, remembering Earnan. Young Merlin spent the moment studying his older face.

"You're going to make us forget, aren't you?"

"Hmm?" Emrys looked up, and saw the worry, the disappointment in Merlin's eyes.

"When you leave, back to your own time, you'll make us all forget you were ever here, won't you?"

Older Merlin sighed and pursed his lips. "I'm sorry," he said. "I have to."

"But why?" Merlin asked desperately.

Emrys thought, and let out a laugh. "Because it's already happened."

Merlin sighed and fiddled with his fingers, not looking up. Emrys' eyes softened, and put a hand on his younger, slimmer shoulder. He tilted his head to see around to Merlin's eyes.

"You don't want him to forget," he said quietly. "You want him to remember; your magic, _you_." Merlin had looked up to meet his own eyes, and of course he couldn't hide it form himself. He nodded softly. "And he _will_, Merlin. In time. Like I said, it _will_ be worth it."

"I'll forget everything you've said, you know," Merlin told him.

Emrys nodded, taking the point. "Yes, but one day, you'll be me, and you'll understand that everything you don't remember me saying was true. You want to know how I know that?"

Merlin looked up at him, eyebrows twisted in a questioning and sad expression. Emrys mustered a kind smile.

"Because it's already happened." He said, gently. He gave his own shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and straightened up. He tucked the journal into a pocket and took up his staff again. He glanced to the door, where the noise was growing louder. "We need to be off," he said. "Merlin… thank you."

Merlin smiled wryly despite his sudden melancholy. "Isn't that a bit self-serving?"

Emrys shrugged. "Can't be _that_ bad for you. Arthur's still kicking, isn't he?"

Merlin laughed, and Arthur appeared to say, "I heard that. Now come on," he gestured, "we need to go now, before they find us. They're fanning out through the castle as we speak."

Emrys nodded. "Right then, Merlin. This is goodbye."

"For now, obviously," Arthur added. Emrys smiled, and winked. Merlin tried his best to smile back.

"You'll need to find someplace to hide until the dust settles," Emrys told him. "And now, I'll have to ask you to go. It won't be good if you stay in here when we leave." Merlin nodded, headed to the door as his older self fished through his pockets for the spells Earnan had given him. After one last look, he left and shut the door softly behind him.

Emrys took his staff in both hands, and began to recite the first part of the spell. A familiar portal appeared, this time in the center of the room, a glowing door floating in the air. Stepping into the reach of its power but not quite _into _ it, Merlin quietly said the memory spell and raised his staff. Hesitating, just for a moment, he brought the staff back down to hit the ground, where an invisible wave shot out in all directions. The warning bell stilled, the noise outside suddenly fading.

"They've forgotten," Arthur murmured.

"Come on," Emrys said, beginning his spell again, this time for their destination. Arthur listened to Merlin put the right words in the right places. He cast a look about the room, feeling strange. "Ready?" Merlin asked when he was done, and Arthur turned to see his friend looking at him expectantly.

Arthur nodded, and stepped into the portal with Merlin. They fell through time, and the portal hissed closed silently behind them.

* * *

><p>They reemerged in the same castle they'd come from. This one was older, and largely in rubble. They both looked around, suddenly feeling rather dazed to be back home. Although they couldn't read each other's thoughts, both wondered simultaneously whether they'd just dreamed the whole thing, the time travelling, the journal, Morgana, meeting themselves. Then they looked at each other, and saw the battle scars and the worn clothes. Merlin's hand went to his pocket to feel the bulge created by Eoran's journal.<p>

"Home," Arthur said, quietly. Merlin nodded at him.

"Home."

Apparently they'd caused enough disturbance to be noticed, because a young voice called from around a littered hallway,

"Daddy!"

Merlin's heart leaped and a huge weight of worry flew away. "Balin! Thank the stars," He said, turning a huge smile and open arms to his son. Balin was followed quickly by Freya and then Guinevere, who, pregnant belly and all, ran up and threw herself on Arthur.

"I was so scared, we couldn't find you, we couldn't find either of you anywhere," she said, and Arthur wondered how long it'd been since they disappeared. The king tossed Merlin a look, but the sorcerer's face was hidden because he was hugging his wife and his son. Raina suddenly appeared to hug Arthur's waist, and he stroked her hair with his free hand. He saw some knights beginning to congregate around them, drawn by the commotion and smiling now that they saw their returned king and sorcerer. Gwen pulled away. "Where have you _been_?" She demanded, wiping tears away to show that she was angry. Arthur looked at Merlin again, and this time, his friend looked back. A thousand words passed between them, and they looked back to their family and friends as one.

"I don't think you'd believe us if we told you," Merlin said, smiling.

* * *

><p>Not too far away, but rather long ago, Merlin was wandering the halls, looking for Arthur, not exactly sure what was going on. He could've sworn the warning bells had been ringing… had he been running? He must've been on his way to Arthur's chambers.<p>

Arthur was looking for him too, apparently. "_Mer_lin," the prince scowled, rounding a corner, looking pointedly displeased with something. _Probably me_, Merlin thought. "Where have you _been?_ Gaius has been worried sick all day, something about you _sneaking out_." He got in Merlin's face, hands on his hips. "Been at the _tavern_ again, have we?"

"I, uh…" Merlin looked around, and then back at Arthur, still confused by his foggy memory. "sorry, what?"

Arthur rolled his eyes to heaven. "You really are the most hopeless idiot I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. Come on, _Mer_lin," Arthur grabbed Merlin by the upper arm and hauled him along.

"Ow! Ow, Arthur, stop it, put me down!"

"You're such a girl, Merlin, even when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk!"

"Yes, and I'm ruler of the faeries."

"They'd never stand for the likes of you, you know," Merlin quipped, rubbing his sore arm.

"Shut up, Merlin. And for god's sake, try to at least _look_ sober for Gaius."

Merin muttered darkly to himself as Arthur bullied him back to Giaus, who was strangely in the council room. (for reasons no one but Merlin seemed to find strange) Merlin would wake up the next morning with a large bruise forming where Arthur had grabbed his arm. Scowling, he'd put salve on it and wonder how on earth he'd gotten landed with this wretched job. _Destiny my arse, _he'd think.

_Oh well_, he'd tell himself eventually, in a tone he thought he'd known forever but had actually only learned recently, _one day, it'll be worth it._


	27. Epilogue: Small Moments

A/N: Thanks, everyone, for all you've said to help me out with this story and keep me inspired to write it. I know a lot of you will find this epilogue disappointing. Still, I think it reflects what this story came to center around, the problems that time travel creates with destiny (such a huge theme in Merlin). I started this story as an excuse to create weird character interactions from different times, but it evolved into something a bit more since then, and I hope I've summed that up in this chapter without growing to preachy.

Enjoy, thank you, and goodbye.

* * *

><p>I'm not entirely sure if Earnan would appreciate me writing in his brother's journal, but who knows? Perhaps he will somehow stumble upon this book again in his travels, and he'll get a chance to say so himself. I'll set aside reservations on the sanity of talking to someone who lived centuries ago and say: Earnan, if by any chance you do come across this (your brother's) journal again with my scrawl all over the back pages, I apologize for it.<p>

To anyone else who finds and reads this, you ought to know: Destiny is a funny thing. And it's taken me one hell of an adventure to figure that out. Perhaps by reading on, you'll get an idea of what I mean by that.

It started twice. Fifteen years apart, to show a few of Destiny's fools what it was really on about all along. Time travel does that to a person. Meeting yourself from years ago is an uncomfortable, but humbling experience. Finding your way back to your own time is even more of an adventure. But I won't go into details here. Arthur is already badgering me to help him write a book (read as: write an entire book by myself) about our adventure before we both go old and grey and forget it all, so I won't waste that ink here. Still, the book Arthur's thinking of will be a chronicle, a story. I needed a place to put down my own thoughts. Perhaps here will do.

I'm rubbish at philosophizing, and worse yet at writing it down. But I need to put it to paper, before I forget it again.

Emrys. Dragonlord. Warlock. Greatest Sorcerer to ever live. People like throwing my titles around like they're something important, and I think (with some shame) that I'd begun to believe them. They're always said in mention with 'Destiny', and for years I thought I knew what that was. My adventures through time and the past have brought me to some humbling, perhaps unexpected conclusions. Destiny isn't quite what we've made it out to be.

The smallest moments give us the loudest echoes of destiny - in the unexplainable things that happen only in the most mundane of circumstances, the ones we never forget. In the truths that we can't express but never, ever doubt. In the parts of our souls that have been marked by an unknown maker. People like to think that destiny is a loud, bombastic quest, with epic tales and heroes, but it's really not. Destiny does not shout. It whispers, in those private moments of our lives that we think no one else would understand.

We recognize faces we've never seen.

_The blond sauntered up to him, a smirk just leaving his face in a contemptuous chuckle. "Do I know you?"_

_He tried to bolster up a smile. "I'm Merlin."_

"_So I don't know you."_

"_No."_

We remember things that have never happened.

_Gaius told him that the French had a term for it: déjà vu. _

_As he watched Geoffrey lower the crown onto Arthur's head, Merlin felt as though it was a repeat. This had happened before. Gwaine was the first to clap - that had happened before, too. Gwen was almost to tears. He remembered that. And somehow, it felt just right to say along with the crowd, _

"_Long live the king!" After all, that's how he remembered it happening the first time. But this was the first time. …Wasn't it?_

We mourn friends who've never left.

_He could never explain it, how sometimes, he would look at him, see him out of the corner of his eye, and inexplicably, his heart would sink and leap at the same time, and a deep pang of something would pull at melancholy. He'd stare, and feel the sudden compulsion to memorize everything about him. He wouldn't be there forever, something, someone told him. _

"_You alright, Merlin?" He'd ask._

"_Yeah, fine," He'd answer, though he wasn't quite sure himself. Lancelot would smile and walk away._

We know things we've never been taught.

_Later, when Gaius had asked him, he couldn't explain how he'd actually managed to do it. He'd put it off, say that it was a spell he'd seen in his book. Just a spell. Any old spell. But later, he'd look, and there would be no such spell in all the pages of his magic book. For all intents and purposes, Merlin must have made it up. But he didn't. He knew it. He just didn't know how he knew._

And we believe in things we know to be impossible.

_Camelot was burning. Morgana had returned. Guinevere was on the cusp of exile, the knights were scattered, and Arthur had reached a new all-time low opinion of magic, of himself, of destiny. Merlin felt nothing but guilt and pain and weariness. And yet, deep in some unexplainable part of him, he found just enough something to say,_

"_You will be the greatest king in Camelot's history. I know you will."_

I wonder now if those small moments aren't part of something larger than they seem.

Destiny is a lofty word used by lofty people to describe something much simpler than they are comfortable with, something they don't quite understand. Because destiny never works the way any of us expect it to. It chooses the least likely to work in the most profound ways. It puts importance on the small moments of life, uses the weak to upstage the great. It forces us to face the hardest questions, the most painful choices, and the reality of our own mistakes. And somehow, through it all, because of it all, it's worth it in the end.

All the talk of destiny I've ever heard has never once mentioned what it is all for. It simply is. But I believe there must be a goal, an end. 'Destiny' is 'Meaning', and 'Meaning' is 'Story'. Every story has an end, and the biggest, the best, are always good. Destiny is the biggest story, and its end will be the best of them all. Perhaps, in one of its strange, quiet moments, Destiny will gather its agents together when it comes time for the conclusion, so we can hear the story's end and appreciate the greatness that we never quite understood.

But I'm speaking in riddles far above what Destiny means now, what it will always mean until we get to hear the full story.

If Destiny with a capital 'D' is the greatest story, then the destinies it spawns are great stories each to their own right; Destiny's children, as it were. They are our stories. Simple stories. Sad stories. Complicated stories. They are our lives. And perhaps by themselves they may seem great, or perhaps a bit boring. But somehow, I think Destiny (with a big 'D') takes them and makes them into something beautiful.

A long time ago, a cranky old Dragon told me that nothing can sway the path of destiny. And perhaps that is true. But if my adventures through time have taught me anything, it is that while we might not be able to change destiny, we can change lives, and sometimes, I think the two are far more similar than we like to believe.

A touch, a smile, a word, a deed. They are sparks of the small moments, the ones that ring truest with destiny itself. I'm not sure if the Dragon was right in saying that we can't change destiny, but I've learned firsthand that we make it happen in the lives we lead – even if we have to go back in time to make our destiny complete.

Destiny is Meaning is Story is Life.

We're all alive, so perhaps we ought to start living.

So now you've read to the end, my philosophizing has gone on long enough. Perhaps you agree with me, perhaps you don't. All the same, you don't want to listen to a crippled old sorcerer talk about destiny like the dragon friend he swore he'd never turn into. (Sorry, Kilgarrah) With all this talk about destiny and stories, you probably want to know how my story, my adventure ended. I suppose I'll tell you.

Once we got back to our own time, I still had this journal in my possession. I wondered if I should destroy it. After all, time travel is a dangerous thing, and knowing how to use it is perhaps even more dangerous. After far too long spent mulling it over, I decided that

I couldn't. It is not my place, it will never be my place to destroy the knowledge of something completely.

That being said, if you are reading this, holding this book in your hand, feeling the weight of the dangerous knowledge within, I must give you this bit of advice:

Be careful. Because if you've found this book amidst a small moment, it might just be destiny. And if that's the case, you're in for an adventure far bigger than I could possibly tell you.

On that note, I wish you luck. And if in your travels you ever come by a strange looking man with badly-cut hair, a light in his eye, and a funny smile on his face, tell Earnan that the man named after a bird says 'hi'.

Written April the twenty-second,

in the year five-hundred and fourty of the Common Era

-Merlin Emrys

* * *

><p>He stared down at the pages with an odd feeling stirring in his chest. He looked back down towards the author's final words, and smiled. He plucked the quill from its inkwell on the desk and scrawled beneath Emrys' signature:<p>

_Hello to you, too._

_Talking to centuries-old time travelers is perfectly within the realm of sanity, because if they really are time travelers, they'll never actually be centuries old. You've used these last pages well._

He paused to review the fresh ink before adding,

_And I don't have badly-cut hair._

_-E_

He chuckled quietly, closed his brother's now-ancient journal, and set it back on Emrys' desk, where it could wait for a new adventurer to stumble upon its secrets.


End file.
